#I know DC has put Tim Drake through so much already but I love adding to his growing collection of mental health issues

[a-slightly-embarrassing-username]

i was going to make a joke about how there has to be some autistic motherfucker in the DCU who has hyperfixated on both Bruce Wayne and Batman and will one day put it together and then I realised

that's just Tim drake Tim drake is the silly autistic guy in the DCU

[iphoenixrising]

For 900 Followers!  Sub!Tim III

So many babes asked me to go on with this little idea. I don’t know why I wanted to write it so much or even continue with a trope I’m very unfamiliar with, .but welp, I did the AOB too, so why not? The first two are on my AO3 so some of those comments were really just as nice.

As a side note, this is a LONG POST. And I may have added notes at the end so there’s no spoilers.

Bleary eyes open–

And things like “I’m going to take care of you,” resonate in his brain pan.

The last twenty-four hours slamming into his immediate consciousness is not conducive to good morning, Red.

Rather, his eyes move frantically around Dick Grayson’s bedroom in a poor attempt at a hopeful bout of crime fighting with some kind of hallucinogenic thrown in.

Fat chance.

A full bottle of water is sitting on the nightstand. His clothes are in a chair by the door.

The Dom supplements and chemical blockers are out of his system.

He’d gone down into Subspace safely for the first time in his life, knowing that by the ache in his body and bleary, half-memories of things like safe.

And now that the crisis is over, he’s back to being somewhat balanced, he’s going to get his ass chewed out and who knows what Dick might insist on after the big secret is out.

A spike of panic hits him in the chest, cold and sharp, and he needs to get moving to try getting a headstart on some damage control.

On silent feet, he throws his clothes on over the bruises and rope burns, noting he doesn’t have a phone, a comm, keys, or anything else that would be, you know, helpful.

Since he’s in Gotham, his only chance is to get to the Perch and get some tech under his belt, prepare before Dick tries do something he thinks is probably in Tim’s best fucking interest since now–

They know.

Random things going through his head while he dresses, mentally struggles to push himself up and away from the call of Subspace.

(If...if he was still here when Dick finally came back, maybe he would be nice and gentle, happy that he woke up still close to slipping over.)

(Or he might want to talk about things like we should find a Dom to take care of you. It’s for your own good, Timmy.)

(“You’ll learn to love it.”)

Dick might think he needs to go to hormone therapy, might make him register so an interested Dom could...could–

(It’s all about ownership, isn’t it, Tim?)

There’s too much “I won’t punish you like this,” that he doesn’t have enough evidence to know what Dick’s next move would be now that he wasn’t going to go catatonic and shit.

(You won’t be able to hide forever.)

What he does know, is that he needs some time to get himself together–

–and make a plan.

The window is up and he’s halfway out, heart in his throat when he picks up the sound of footsteps and a door opening. A strange bout of sudden panic climbs up out of his chest at the noise, and it’s enough to spook him into not to bother closing the window when he throws himself on the fire escape and starts to climb.

**

Panicky impulse is not necessarily a good motivator. Give it to someone with years of vigilantism and extensive martial arts training under his belt, and the decision-making process is fraught with more options and factors than the average person.

Which is why Tim Drake is taking a short-cut through the Red Hood’s usual stomping grounds in hopes to cut the route he’d need to take to his Gotham Perch by half. It’s a stupid move on his part, attracting too much attention by going via the rooftop express than making it down to the street to get lost in the shadows between lamp posts.

But before Hood had claimed this as one of his territories, back when Tim was the one wearing the tunic, the shuriken R on his shoulder gleaming in the night, back when things were simpler if not still bat-shit crazy (heh) because of things like psychopaths with delusions of grandeur and megalomaniac kinks, back when he was that Robin, he’d combed every inch of these rooftops, crouched down to eat power bars and drink grape Zestis in-between busting drug deals and kicking the shit out of purse snatchers.

Gotham was his first stomping grounds in the cape, so he knows all the good places to hide.

It’s why his battered blue and white DCs feel like boots when he lands it on Gold’s Pawn, takes the whole thing in five big strides, pushing up into gravity, flying for just a second, and landing it on the run-down laundry mat next door.

He crouch-walks to keep himself low as possible, moving in the shadows when he can, breathing in the night around him with senses painfully alert after the first easy drop into Subspace he’s ever had.

(Which he is absolutely not thinking about. Nope.)

The drop-off into an alley and corresponding sprint to the next dumpster are so he can hot-foot it up to the side of a bail bondsman, avoid a loose plank, and scale up with a few handholds in the brick that are all about forearm strength.

He’s running on adrenaline, paying attention to the path ahead, panting and too full of his own thoughts–

–that he doesn’t expect the whistle of a bolo sailing through the air, or the abrupt stop of it wrapping around his knees. Embarrassingly, he makes an eep before he hits the roof, fumbling enough to scrape his damn hands.

He flips over, already working the heavy weights of the bolo from around his knees, eyes darting to the shadows, wondering if Hood might have found him after all.

(How the fuck was he going to talk his way out of this one?)

But it’s Nightwing that steps out of the shadows, brows drawn above the domino, his mouth such a sharp downward slash that Tim cringes, automatically tries to make himself smaller.

“D-Don’t!” He tries hoarsely, fingers working faster, more frantic.

(If he was back up, he’d be out of this already – his panicky brain is telling him, and that just makes it even harder, and he can’t stop to think through what he could be facing next–)

“Stop. Now.”

And the bitter bile rises up in his chest when he responds to that voice, when he stops, has to wait.

He’s still too fresh coming off of Subspace, too long of not going down, that it’s ten times harder to resist.

“I’m not happy,” is low and dark from the Dominant in front of him, hands deceptively loose at his sides. “You aren’t ready to be out yet. I’m sure you’re fully aware of that, Tim.”

His hands are starting to shake because he still tries to fight, eyes fixed on booted feet coming toward him. His fingers curl into fists, but that’s as far as he can go.

“What if you dropped a few minutes ago? No grapple? No way to catch yourself? You obviously aren’t thinking rationally, which means you need to be taken down at least once more before you’re stable. Maybe even twice if I can get you there.”

A sob works it’s way up, and he has to clench his teeth against it, arms straining with the effort to just get his fucking hands to work.

“You were so good for me, and this? Running away? Such a big no-no.”

(“Don’t fight it. Don’t ever fight it.”)

He bites down hard, harder, needs the pain to break free. He has to get free.

(“I’m not going to punish you like this.” So, you’ll wait until I’m not dropping, right?)

“I understand why you didn’t come to me when you needed help,” and Nightwing is only two steps away, pauses when he notices blood on Tim’s chin, on how the chest under the oversized hoodie is rapidly rising and falling.

The choked sound could have been a laugh or a sob, telling the vigilante some of what he needs to know.

“You presented after Bruce was lost in time, didn’t you?” It’s deceptively soft, but the undertone is all Dom.

“Y-Yes,” he grits out grudgingly, unable to stop himself. “After I lost my spleen.”

There’s something there that makes Nightwing pause, the booted feet hesitating.

“I’m sorry.” Is softer than he wants to hear, than he wants to deal with while he’s fighting against his true nature. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. I wasn’t there for so long, and it’s going to be hard to trust me now.”

It’s all a jumble of whatever, so he’s only got half an ear on the voice, trying to make it subtle when he lowers his clenched hands enough to wiggle one finger in the bolo’s rope around his knees from the back. He needs to get them loose enough to get away–

(from that voice, from that promise, from everything Dick represents to him right that second).

“But you need to at least try,” the older vigilante continues, takes one step forward, pausing again when Tim flinches violently back, is breathing too fast, too harshly, might work himself over into hyperventilation.

“Ssstop,” from between clenched teeth, “stop it.”

“My inner Dom would never let me leave a Sub in need, and I wouldn’t anyway because you, one of my partners, needs this. You need to submit. You can feel what your body is telling you, Tim.”

To run the fuck away and never look back.

And Nightwing slowly takes a knees, those whiteouts focusing on the Sub’s face hidden by the hood.

Luckily, Dick Grayson is a good Dom.

He’s the one that figured out B’s secret not long after getting the inner Dom senses when he presented. It all happened during the crazy span of time Clark had to vanish deep in the universe, and left B to keep things on Earth in line with the JLA while also doing the usual vigilante justice in Gotham.

Still in pixie boots, Dick had done everything to help shoulder the burden, but it wasn’t long when he started seeing the signs. When his Dark Knight was getting closer and closer to the edge. He’d overwork himself to the point of exhaustion, trying to keep from getting too violent with criminals and megalomaniacs. The struggle to keep himself at the top of his game, one step ahead of the baddies, the more intense brooding.

It killed Dick to watch B spiral, so he’d done his homework on Submissives, trying to put his first scene together that would be easy for both of them without ever acting as a Dom before.

Even back then, he was good at anticipating, and it was as simple as ordering his other Dad to shower and change into pajamas, to eat everything Alfred made him, and sleep for eight hours.

That was enough to balance them both out, to bring them closer as partners.

That might have been the first time he used the Dom Voice on Bruce, but it wasn’t the last. It was the high point of their partnership when Bruce finally gave in and let his Robin take him down when his Dom was busy and the world was closing in.

It had gone far in making him into a good Dom, able to talk down terrified Subs, to volunteer as a Service Dom, to separate out Dick Grayson’s Dom with all his personal preferences and the Dom that wants to give the Sub what he or she needs.

(It’s still a sore point with him, how he thought being Bruce’s stand-in Dom is what drove him to take away the tunic, because B couldn’t look at him the same, couldn’t see his sidekick after a while…)

He hoped he and Tim could at least come to an understanding. To be equals, partners again. And this revelation could be such a big step to making that happen. If he could make Tim believe in him, if he could give the third Robin a safe place to be able to let go.

He could make up for at least some of those old pains, maybe even earn Tim’s trust back again.

It was a solid plan, but not as easily executable as he’d thought, proven when he had caught the sound of the window opening, half-way into making something breakfast-y, his heart slammed hard when he’d taken off down to the hall to find his bed and bathroom empty.

A moment of panic hit Dick in the chest because Tim was still too vulnerable to the Dom Voice after the drop into Subspace while riding the dregs of withdraw–

He hadn’t had time to explain the plan to keep Tim from running. Hadn’t had the time to admit he’d had taken a blood sample to analyze once he’d finally un-tied the dazed Sub and let Tim sleep off however many days of insomnia he’d been riding. A call to Bruce while Tim was passed out cold in his bed to share the results, and they made a tentative plan.

He’d talked to Bart, Kon, and Cassie, asked them to come by tomorrow night, hopefully to see for themselves that Tim was getting better, more lucid and on-his-game. He thought making a point to bring some of the Titans to Gotham could have meant avoiding this very thing.

Tim’s usual deflection methods.

And as much as he doesn’t really want to, he’s going to have to put his foot down, and listen to his instincts on this one.

Blinking away the wetness in his eyes, Tim’s hands pause, and the sinking feeling in his chest that might N have a valid point weighs him down on the rooftop in Gotham, just as much as the bolo around his legs.

The Dom is doing that Bat-loom thing because he’s fucking concerned.  Just looking up to see hands poised over his arms, waiting for permission, and everything in Tim sways closer when the Dom voice comes out–

(like when he’s told how good he is, how beautiful in ropes and restraints, how perfect he is when he just gives the fuck in)

–so, of course, when he insanely thinks he can’t have this means he has to push it and see if it’ll break.  

“Trust? You want me to trust you, Dick? You think I don’t know you all want the same thing?” He grits his teeth to shut the Submissive in the depths of his brain pan the hell up, “fucking Doms. Want to punish me, Dick? Want to beat me until I bleed for you? Want to hit me until I’m a good little bitch?”

Some kind of tension bleeds out of Nightwing’s rigid spine. His hands flex and loosen, the deep frown gone when the vigilante sighs.

He finally moves then, pushes Tim’s hands away to work the bolo loose himself.

“Not all of us are assholes like that. I know you know I’m not like that.” And even when he gets the ropes loose, drops it beside them, the weights making a light thump, fingerstripes flash through the night act like impromptu manacles.

“Look at me.”

Even without the Dom voice this time, he can’t disobey. More because it’s Dick rather than the man that wrapped him in ropes and gave him what he needed to be able to go down without pain or force or fear.

“This is terrifying for you. No, I don’t really know, but there’s no other reason for you to run away from me than if you thought things were going to change, or if you thought I would give a crap about you being a Sub.” He taps his domino to raise the whiteouts, blue, blue eyes zeroing right in. “I would never, never punish you for protecting yourself, Tim, and that is exactly what you were doing. I hope, after you were able to go down for me, you’ll realize you don’t have to anymore.”

And since it’s Dick, the words his deep enough to make him suck in a breath, to ease down some of the blatant fears that came along with this little reveal.

Tim can’t look Nightwing in the face as blood rushes back in his lower legs when the bolo comes off, but blue and black kevlar is presses in tight against him so he can’t get up to run again.

“Hey, c’mon Detective. Use the evidence you’ve already got.” Is more gentle than he expected, making some of the steel in his spine soften.

“I...he-he told me,” and the words get caught up somewhere, stuck somewhere in the center of his chest because he’d never spoken about what happened when he was desperate, before synthetic supplements, before heavy mediation and self-dropping techniques.

(But he couldn’t only ever get himself down so far, only to skim the top of Subspace, still achy and half-manic after every attempt.)

“Well, well, well, lookit what we got here.”

Oh fuck. Oh fuck.

Nightwing is on his feet in a breath of movement, escrima sticks out automatically, knees bent and ready to lunge.

But the Red Hood just holds up both .45s, barrels pointed to the sky, and cocks out a hip. “Nice ta see ya, Baby Boy. Thought ya couldn’t be out t’night ‘causea some business.”

Tim already knows it’s too late to run, but the opportunity is one he really can’t pass up.

“Case, we were...we were working on a case. Hood. Hey man. How’s kicks? Any new baddies lately?”

“Slow night in Gotham, Timmers,” as he hops down off the high ledge and makes the walk over look good. “Good t’ see ya made it outta that last throw-down. I hate those DaDa fucks like ya wouldn’t believe.”

“Tell me about it,” he ignores Nightwing’s hand and clambers to his own feet, hoodie keeping his face on the down-low in case nosy reporters are snooping about the rooftops.

“Nah. Ain’t one a’ my best stories anyhow.” Hood puts a big hand to Tim’s shoulder, ducks down a little so the whiteouts can catch his eye, “‘sides, ya look like ya could fall the fuck over any minute now. Been balls deep in yer case means ya ain’t been sleepin’, right Timmy?”

“Yeah,” he makes his eyes meet the whiteouts, tries to play it off because he desperately doesn’t want to react to Jason Todd’s inner Dom (if anyone would know how to cause pain, it would be the vigilante that almost killed him more than once. They might be better now, might even work together sometimes, but he’s got no way of knowing how Jay would react to the truth). “Yeah, it’s been a rough couple of days.”

He internally cringes when the helmet perks.

“Seems that way since yer workin’ a case right after those fucks had yer team runnin’ ragged.” And the Red Hood takes a small step closer, a hand goes for Tim’s wrist, leather fingers overlapping. The tight hold makes his knees wobble, black eating at the edges of his vision (he’s between two Doms and the Submissive in him can’t help but want to drop to his knees for them, to be Good, to beg for their orders, to give himself over–).

Hood is saying something, but he can’t really hear the words, can only stare up at the whiteouts with his wrist held tight between them.

Your restraints would feel safe comes completely out of left fucking field and that panicky feeling is back, creeping up his throat, coppery in his mouth.

(I’m so screwed.)

Subtly, Nightwing slides a hand up to the back of Tim’s neck, thumb pressing at the right pressure point, helps flood his brain pan with the right endorphins, shaking him out of the daze.

“Yeah, lookit ya,” and the helmet shakes from side-to-side while the synths register the tisking. “Better get yer ass somewhere and sleep it off, Timmy. Ain’t ya still godda Perch in Gotham?”

“I’m taking him to my place,” N interjects, “so I can make sure he takes care of himself.”

Tim is with it enough to look at the Dom behind him, the threat of the hand on the back of his neck enough to keep him from protesting in front of Hood, but he can’t stop his body from tensing up when Nightwing takes just a tiny step closer to his back, the heat of him, the power and strength, the command an enticing pull and terrifying prospect in the same breath.

(“You’ll learn to love it.”

“I’ll never punish you for protecting yourself.”)

The synths are quiet for a long second, the Red Hood pulling off a little bit of that Bat-stillness.

“Hey Dickie, what case didja say ya were workin’ again?” Is off-handed, but if Tim knows anything about Jason Todd, it’s that very few things about him are accidental.

He opens his mouth to blurt out something that could be somewhat believable, but Nightwing beats him to it, “we’re looking into some shady dealings happening in a few care centers around town. Abusive Doms that like to ignore contracts if you know what I mean.”

It must have been the thing Hood needed to hear because the vigilante’s attention shifts, and he throws up a pointer finger in their direction, “s’at so, Big Wing? Ya need anyone else on ‘at, just lemme know. Motherfucking hate shitty Doms, you feel me here?”

Through the haze settling over him, fighting the urge to sink to his knees, Tim sucks in a surprised breath, not sure if he wants more information or to get the hell off this rooftop before he gives himself away.

“I mean, ya know what I’m sayin’. Some asshole ain’t gonna be what his Sub needs, ain’t gotta place workin’ a clinic. ‘At’s fer damn sure.”

“Agreed,” Nightwing replies quickly, “so we’re going through a lot of personnel files, you know? If we need another pair of eyes or hands in on it, we’re going to call you first.”

“Sounds righteous, boys. If ya need it, ya know how ta find me,” a two fingered salute before the gauntlet grapple fires into the night, “an’ fer fuck’s sake, Timmers. Get some damn sleep. Look like a fucking pile a’ shit warmed over.” With that parting shot, the Red Hood leaps off the roof, going back to patrol.

The second he swings off around the 7-11 on the corner, Tim lets out the breath he’d been holding in a woosh, and with it, the strength left in his knees.

“Stubborn ass,” Dick gripes, catching him easily enough, slides one of his arms over Kevlar and Nomac. “But you’re my stubborn ass, aren’t you?”

He might make a noise, something slurry and low, something that could have been bite me or bet me.

But he turns enough to catch those fingerstripes stark against the pale skin of his wrist, and something in him, something long buried and denied makes a knot warm in his belly, makes his mouth water, makes the random flash in the forefront of his brain pan–

Those fingerstripes in his mouth, opening him up, playing with the rope around his chest and shoulders, tapping on the gag in his mouth, feeding him bits of food, his tongue curling around them, following the motions of his Dom…

– “Timmy? Oh baby, you’re going down deep aren’t you?”

“N-No, no, I’m–” but somehow he’s sitting on Dick’s overstuffed couch, his shoes and hoodie removed, and Dick crouched at his side, holding a grape Zesti with a little straw sticking out. The top of the Nightwing suit is open to the waist, the top half pulled off to flop around Dick’s legs.

Fuck, how much time did he lose?

When he would have jerked up, tried to run his mouth for a little deflection tech, he’s pathetically at a loss for words when Dick’s free hand comes up to cup over his mouth, not letting the deflections come out–

And Dick keeping a hand over his mouth, muffling his moans, his screams, his sobs…

– and a thumb pressing gently into the pressure point in his wrist makes his eyes flutter enough to focus.

“That’s it. Open again for me. Such a good boy,” and his mouth drop open automatically, another piece of bagel with cream cheese for him to chew. He’s on Dick’s lap this time, not on the couch by himself, or kneeling at Dick’s feet, but just laying against the Dom’s chest with some sense of satisfaction when he chews, swallows, and opens up for the next bite.

“I know it’s hard to think right now, but you’re so perfect like this. Doing exactly what I wanted. My perfect Sub, doing so beautifully for me.”

He moans a little around the bite, warming at the praise, hands lose in his lap, gets to lick the extra cream cheese off Dick’s finger for the next bite.

“Mmhm. I’m going to let you stay down for a little while longer. You’re feeling really nice right now, and you need it, don’t you, baby? You haven’t let yourself have this nearly enough.”

He makes a soft noise in his chest, using words too much of a bother at the moment.

“I know, I know. But it’s okay. You’re safe here with me. You can let go when I’m here, Timmy, I promise. I’ll keep you safe.”

A few more bites and he gets a few drinks of some tart juice, the taste sharp and tart enough to make the haze around him lighten up, gives him enough awareness to turn his head and make sure he knows where they are this time.

The color of the walls and pulley system on the ceiling tells him they’re in Dick’s bedroom this time, and the suit hanging on the back of the door has absolutely nothing to do with their usual nightlife.

He gets a few minutes to take in the shine off the latex, the embedded rings stark silver against the black, the heavy hood with extra straps to go over the eyes and mouth, holes in the nose so the person inside could breathe.

“Another drink, Timmy. That’s it. My pretty Sub is almost ready, aren’t you?” Dick leans down just a little to talk lower into his ear. “You’re going to go down for me again, all the way, aren’t you? You’re going to let me see you like that again, how gorgeous you are when you’re in Subspace. And you’re going to be good and let me help you get there.”

But Tim shudders a little in the Dom’s hold, trying to think through the haze that just wants him to be pliant, that wants him to give in and make Dick happy, wants to do whatever he has to for Dick to keep saying he’s...he’s good.

But...But there was a reason he left in the first place, isn’t there?

“D-Dick, I…” but that felt wrong in his mouth, the words so hard to form when he feels almost woozy, wants to slide to his knees and kneel at Dick’s feet, wants to call him Sir and feel that attention fixed on him again.

The hand on his jaw is warm and the touch sends a thrill through his nerve endings, automatically lets him lean into the touch, eyes fluttering open–

(when did he close his eyes?)

–to the dark blue of Dick looking down at him critically, assessing, seeing more than Tim had let anyone but the occasional Titan in on.

“Oh,” the Dom breathes out very, very quietly, looking at the soft flush to Tim’s pale face, the way he’d immediately softened at skin-to-skin touch.

A new plans starts forming, his eyes darting to the latex suit he’d pulled out when it seemed like Tim needed another scene with sensory deprivation (not that the idea of putting his Sub in the suit wasn’t very appealing to his helpless kink – his mind going places featuring Tim in the suit writhing below him), but the automatic reaction makes him change his mind immediately.

He tests his theory, hand slowly moving so his palm spans the side of Tim’s throat, thumb back-and-forth over his jugular.

The vulnerable position doesn’t bring any self-preservation to the fore, just makes Tim’s mouth open for a soft sigh.

Touch-starved.

“Mmhm,” he draws out, low and deep, “you’re ready to get started now. I want you to stand up and strip down to your boxers. Fold your clothes neatly and put them on the bureau. Then, I want you to kneel and wait for me. Do you understand, Tim?”

He sees the sluggish movement of violet-blue eyes go to the suit on the back of the door, start to get fixed.

“I asked once, Tim. I don’t want to ask again.”

The hazey quality makes his movements more sloppy and sluggish, something he can’t focus on while he’s trying to do what his Dom wanted, half-terrified of punishment, half-excited at what his Dom might do to him this time, what could make the quality of his tone, the glaring warning (“I don’t want to ask again.”) change into something...else.

His hands are shaky by the time he’s done, laying his folded clothes neatly on the bureau. There a moment of panic, of fear, spearing his chest when he realizes he doesn’t know where to kneel. Sir didn’t tell him where.

(Close to the suit, by the bed, in the middle of the floor? If he gets it wrong, what will Sir do to him? If he asks, will he get punished anyway? He didn’t listen close enough the first time, must have missed it, because he’s bad at this, a bad Sub...)

His mouth goes dry and coppery, the air cool on his bare skin, goosebumps rising on his arms.

“S-Sir, where…?” Is trembly and tentative, so unlike the dangerous vigilante lurking under his skin, under the haze, under the need to do this, to be this.

To give in.

“Right by the bed, Timmy. That’s where I want you. Good boy for asking.” Sir calls absently while he’s in the bathroom, light on and door open, where he’d apparently gone while Tim was stripping down.

But the relief is a palpable thing, makes him stumble on the first step. But he focuses on sitting back on his heels, hands loose on his bare thighs, breathing through his nose.

He keeps his chin tilted down when Sir comes back with a white bottle in his hands, and opens the nightstand drawer, pulling out a set of leather cuffs.

“You’re doing perfectly. Stay right there while I get some things ready for you.”

But his eyes slide to the suit waiting, something about it just–

Dick pauses in rifling through the drawer, turning to look at him, really look even though he hadn’t heard a sound. Something here set off his inner sense.

“Tim,” is careful, curious. “Check in.”

But his eyes can’t leave the hood, the shiny zipper up the back, the straps over his mouth both soothing and stifling and his brain doesn’t know if he can take it right now, if he can calm down enough not to fight it. If it won’t choke him.

(That could be your punishment after all. No movement, can’t scream, can’t breathe, just a body tied down to be fucked or bled, just like he promised…)

Dick’s hand is warm on his jaw again, the touch turning him abruptly, breaking him out of a mental loop.

“What are your safewords?” The Dom Voice, the one thing that could really bring him back, make him focus.

“Red...Yellow...G-Green, Sir.”

“Good Boy,” low and slow, “now check in.”

He swallows softly, trembling with the possibility he’s getting himself in trouble by admitting, “...y-yellow.”

And as deep as he is, as the heavy haze settled over him pulls this part of him out, the one with the need to please, that wanted praise, terrified of fucking up, of being bad, being thrown away and abandoned and–

He cringes back, wincing like an animal waiting for the blow.

But the Dom doesn’t let him pull away, the grip on his jaw gets tight, giving him another spike of fear right in the center of his chest.

But Sir is unfailingly gentle when he says, “that’s right, baby. My. Good. Boy. I’m so proud of you for telling me the truth.”

The breath he’d been holding rushes out, leaving him trembling slightly, trying to concentrate on just staying still where Sir’s hand is holding his jaw.

“What do you need to calm down? Maybe a collar?”

“I…” his eyes go to the suit again, “th-that. The suit. I...I don’t know if I can– if I can do it this time? I...I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Sir, I–”

“That’s okay. I changed my mind about the suit, too. Maybe another time. I think you don’t need that to go down. I have something different planned.”

His shoulders and back relax with the tension he hadn’t realized he’d been carrying, but he keeps his jaw right in the palm of his Dom’s hand. “Th-thank-you, Sir.”

“You’re welcome,” is gentle, but still with an edge. “And now you know I expect you to use your safeword, Tim. You will use it when you need to, just like you needed to a few minutes ago and didn’t.”

“I,” and he blinks wetly, eyes suddenly hot, “I...Sir–”

“Mmhm. I already told you last time that you will safeword out, and you didn’t, did you, Tim?”

His breath is more of a gasp, a hiccup, and he has to blink again, try to keep his eyes from spilling over, “No. No Sir.”

“Tell me why.”

“I-I,” and he has to swallow, can’t close his eyes, or stop the tremble up his spine, “I was a-afraid you would punish me if I...if I said no.”

“Mmhm, and what did I tell you on the roof?” Is soft with a dangerous, low edge.

“That...that you wouldn’t punish me for protecting myself.” And it’s too late because one lone drop spills out, rolls down until Sir’s thumb rubs it away.

“That’s right. You will safeword out when something might hurt you. That is absolutely non-negotiable.” Dick’s tone is firm, an edge of anger that makes the Submissive in him shrink down because he’d made the Dom angry with him. “Rule number one, Tim. If you let me hurt you when you could have stopped me–”

Tim’s eyes widen, a shudder runs down his spine, because the cool, calm facade doesn’t touch those eyes, a promise of something dark lurking just under the surface.

(And it’s not too far out of the realm of possibilities that Sir’s been playing the Good Dom with him up until now. Being nice and attentive, caring and touching … but there’s something, something there that pulls at his instincts, makes it easier to submit each time...would it sting so good if Dick was the one using a crop on him this time?)

“–I will punish you. Do you understand?”

“Yes–yes, Sir,” and punish makes his spine snap ramrod straight, makes him tremble in the palm of Dick’s hand, makes him lower his eyes.

“Now, you are going to wear my cuffs again. I’m going to restrain you, and you are going to lay down on my bed on your belly.” Sir’s thumb swipes under his eye again before the hand is gone off his face, letting Tim drop his chin to his chest.

Dick watches the struggle for a few moments, the movement of eyes under the lids, the pink staining his nose and under his eyes, the rapid blinks to keep his eyes from spilling over. And even if he wants to do nothing more than drop to his knees and take Tim in his arms, to keep him held securely, to surround him in strength and support, to talk against the top of his head, to call him little brother and I’ll never let another Dom hurt you. Even if his arms ache, his chest tight with it, he knows that isn’t at all what the Submissive hiding inside Tim Drake, Red Robin, really needs.

He needs to understand where the boundaries are, not the ones imposed on him from the abusive Dom, but the real boundaries Submissive and Dominants set for any Scene (normally by way of contracts, which they will be having that conversation, Timmy, you can bet on it).

“Give me your wrist, sweetheart. I’m going to take care of you,” no room for questions or internal struggle. It’s the Dom in him taking care of his Sub in need.

The hand trembles but rises up without Tim lifting his face, and Dick very gently leans down to press his mouth against the throbbing pulse before fitting the thick leather cuff around and buckling it securely in place.

Without being told, Tim holds up the other one, the trembling moving down his wrists to his shoulders, and Dick can see how it’s starting to be too much, too overwhelming, knows where they need to go, how they need to stop all those riotous thoughts from controlling him.

“Good boy, Timmy. You look so good in my cuffs, just perfect.”

“Thank-you, Sir.”

“Now, up on my bed, sweetheart. I want to get your ankles.”

Even though he doesn’t want to, Dick steps back instead of helping his shaky Submissive, watches Tim crack his eyes open and turn to crawl on the bed, laying down on his belly with every muscle strung tight.

It’s fine. By the time he’s done, he’s going to make sure Tim falls into Subspace, soft and relaxed, eyes dazed and mouth pink, smiling up at him when he’s so sweet, so trusting, so perfect putting himself in Dick’s hands and giving the hell in.

He doesn’t give further instructions, just picks up the two remaining cuffs, runs his fingers gently down Tim’s calf until he gets to the ankle, wraps his long fingers around one and tightens down. The tense muscles relax just a little, just enough that he can tell, can take the sign for what it is, and fit the cuff, buckle it in place with the D-ring facing the right way. Dick repeats the process with the other ankle, working his Sub into it with his touch first before fitting the cuff and tightening it down.

The bottle he’d prepared and chain lengths he’d attached to the braces at the bottom of the bed are ready for step two.

It’s easy to keep one hand moving up and down his Sub’s lower leg while the other clips the chain on the D-ring at each ankle, moving up so he can make light circles on Tim’s back. He doesn’t need to tell Tim to stretch out his arms, the tentative movement puts the cuffs close enough to secure.

“That’s right. You know I’m going to take care of you, aren’t I, Tim?”

The body under his hand shudders, “yes, Sir.”

But, no, Dick isn’t convinced, but right now, he and Tim have all the time in the world.

He picks up the last thing he’d prepared. “Yes, I am. Now, open.”

His jaw trembles, but Tim closes his eyes and tries, tries, to believe. He opens up and the taste of silicone is like another checkpoint. This one has holes, is more breathable, and he holds still as the buckle is fastened and then, the silk comes over his eyes.

He just breathes out and lets it happen.

And it’s so beautiful when Tim stops fighting him again, starts to give in, is gingerly putting his submission in Dick’s hands.

It gets to him down deep where the Dominant wants his Sub to always be this loose, this giving, whether it’s after a few rounds with the riding crop or overstimulated with more orgasms than they thought possible.

Or, what plans to spend the next two hours doing.

“Shake your cuff, Tim,” is soft and dark when both hands start making easy strokes up and down his back. One disappears and comes back smelling like soft musk, is slick and warm and strong. It’s a crazy thing how he unconsciously arches into it, the touch light but still firm, his skin sensitive against it.

It takes a second for his brain to hear the gentle jingle-jingle-jingle.

Bell. Attached to the restraints.

“Shake it once for Red. Twice for Yellow.”

Tim might have made a noise, might have raised up when those fingers lightly brush over old scars. He might let out a soft noise through the because it’s starting to feel like too much, just being...touched.

While Tim tenses and relaxes, Dick tries to be easy about throwing a leg over Tim’s hips, using both hands to start working out all the tension, all the knots, all the tight tendons. Back when, he’d worked at the gym in the Haven, he’d had plenty experience rubbing out old injuries, not to mention his many, many superhero and vigilante besties that get hurt doing something stupid in the name of justice. He literally spent an hour on Wally’s calves and thighs once, and the guy passed right the hell out before Dick was even halfway done.

But this? Feeling how hard Tim falls for this, moaning out at being touched and tended, those noises helpless through his gag when the hard muscle finally gives under his hands, the way he sinks further into the bed between Dick’s thighs just gives him all the evidence he needs.

(Octopus Hold Protocol is a GO.)

So he settles back on his heels, sitting gingerly on the back of Tim’s thighs, gets himself in the mindset for the long haul, occasionally picking up the bottle to slick his hands with warming massage oil so he could move slow and firm, touching and rubbing and working his tense Submissive all the way down to the waistband of his boxers, then takes his time to work back up again.

It takes a few minutes of constant touch, of Dick’s hands on him, before the tension really starts melting away under the massage.  The Dom finally moves down, starts on thighs and calves, rhythmic and soothing, taking satisfaction from each boneless flop when he’d worked out the entire leg, listening to the soft sounds, muffled but oh so enticing.

By the second or third time he’s reached the back of Tim’s neck, uses thumbs to work the vertebrae and around to the hinges of his jaw, Tim was making soft, satisfied noises.

Dick’s pretty sure if he removes the blindfold, those eyes would be dazed and soft and trusting,  that Tim is down far enough to be in Subspace, completely lax in his restraints, hands open, flopped on the soft bedspread.

“That’s perfect, Pretty Bird,” when he just slows down to rubbing his thumbs down his Sub’s neck again, humming from his own high off the successful scene. “I want you to stay just like this.”

And since Dick’s an amazing detective, he’s completely right when Tim’s eyes are softly unfocused, don’t immediately seek out the boltholes and easy-getaways, but lazily blink up at him, relaxed and open and trusting.

He unconsciously brushes fingers over Tim’s cheeks, is enamoured when his palm is nuzzled and a big sigh lifts Tim’s chest a little, making the Dom roll with the rush of endorphins from a job well done.

“Beautiful,” Dick praises softly. “But it’s time to eat, sweetheart, and I want you to kneel for me, just like this. So soft and sweet while you’re down.”

He unclips ankles and then wrists, leaves Tim’s ankles free, but arms pulled behind him, the D-rings fastening his wrists together.

The gag comes out, but Tim’s too far down to fight and put on a mask, just leans into it when Dick wipes the saliva from his chin with a soft cloth.

“One more thing,” is the (his) collar buckled and snug, marking him. A leash clips to the ring right under the Good Boy, makes it easier somehow for Tim to find his balance when he stands with his arms fastened behind him, hazy and focused on Sir’s every move now that he can see.

Eat. Sir said it was time to eat, time to kneel. He can do that. He can be good and do that.

He follows a step behind, his body achy and loose, legs wobbly like Jello-O, but he’s never felt lighter.

It’s easy now when the real world is far, far away, and he can be here, in Sir’s apartment, following the rules, making Sir happy with him.

It’s easy to keep one foot in front of another, hoping for hands on his neck, his shoulders, his back. Wants to feel hands in his hair, wants to suck on the fingers feeding him, wants to lay against Sir’s leg again and just be.

He kneels without being told, going down too hard, too fast, hitting the wood floor hard with a sharp crack, still not jarring enough to pull him back up from this fuzzy contentment.

“Easy next time, Pretty Bird. I don’t like my Subs damaged unless it’s at my hand when they’re begging for it.” Sir uses the leash wrapped around his hand to pull Tim up to his feet, free hand tilting his face up, and Sir’s eyes are light blue, are pleased with him. “First, you’re going to get the snack I made for us. Then we’re going to eat and relax a little.”

“Yes, Sir,” is soft and happy, making the Dom hum as he unclips the leash and sits back on the couch to watch what his Sub is going to do.

He’s too far down to realize picking anything up with his hands isn’t going to work, but the basket on the counter has food inside and a handle, with a clean cloth laying over it. So he doesn’t think of anything else but opening his jaw and using his mouth to carry their snack over and kneel on the pillow by Sir’s feet just like he was told.

He doesn’t even wobble, just tilts his head back and offers the basket to Dick with his cheeks pink and hair an adorable mess, waiting for the next set of instructions.

“So smart, aren’t you?” Dick coos, taking the basket from his Sub’s mouth and gently running his fingers through the snarls. “You knew what I wanted you to do, didn’t you, Timmy? My clever little Sub.”

The fresh fruit and lunch meat is cool and easy to take from Dick’s fingers, makes his Dom happy, makes his Dom focus on him, give him attention he desperately craves. The satisfaction wells up in his chest, gives him the boldness to lick at Sir’s fingers, scrape his teeth gently against the tips, suck more than he needs to.

Some water for him and Dick flips on the television, The Trouble With Tribbles coming on.

“I’m going to catch up on paperwork, and I want you to stay right here with me. Got that, sweetheart?”

Tim is already moving when the hand on the back of his neck makes him list against the Dom’s leg, eyes half-mast watching the program.

“Yes, Sir. Going to stay with you.” He sighs in contentment, falls a little further under where everything is soft and nothing hurts. He doesn’t have to offer to help, doesn’t have to focus on his own cases, doesn’t have to be Tim or Red Robin. He doesn’t have to be the vigilante or the leader of the Titans, he can just fuzzily tune into the show while soft scritches punctuate when Sir writes.

After a little while, he gets questions and doesn’t even have to think about his answers really. It’s okay to tell his Dom whatever he wants to know, to tell the truth because that’s what Good Boys do.

And it feels so good like this when Sir calls him good, runs fingers through his hair absently even when his attention is fixed on the spiral notebook. Getting the attention even when Sir is busy makes warmth bloom in his chest, makes it easier to sink back down.

“Hm. If another Dom put restraints on you, would you like that?”

“Mmhm. Feels good, Sir. Like being held.”

“That’s good, baby. I’m so glad you’re telling me the truth.”

“I...I’m being good for you, Sir?”

“You absolutely are. My good boy, my Pretty Bird.”

He vaguely hears tisking and rubs his cheeks against his Dom’s thigh, hears, “hm. Still a lot of questions I don’t want to ask while you’re nice and relaxed. Maybe I’ll come visit you in the Tower one day when you can’t run from me.”

The Submissive in him reacts when Sir’s tone changes, hides his face in Dick’s leg, shoulders tensing.

The hand in his hair starts moving again, subtly sliding down to palm the back of his neck, and the grip gets just a little more firm. “Mmhm. Seems like you’re back enough to know I haven’t forgotten. Does that mean you’re to tell me why you ran out this morning?”

And maybe because he isn’t the vigilante, because he’s down far enough that lying to his Dom makes him cold and sick, makes his eyes burn, and he has to blink wetly to keep from getting Sir’s pants wet.

“You… you were going to punish me.”

“What? Tim,” and the hand on his neck isn’t gentle or coaxing, but firm enough that his head moves bonelessly on his neck, dazed, watery eyes looking up. “I already told you I wasn’t going to punish you.”

“ ‘Like this,’ you said.” And his chest stutters with a hard breath, “but I lied. For years. It...it’s going to eventually be time, and I...I–”

Would rather get it over with.

“Tim,” and Sir’s eyes are so blue, “one of these days, I am going to punish you. That’s going to happen. But, I will always, always tell you first. I will tell you when and why you’re being punished, and when you can finally talk to me about what that other Dom did to you, I will make sure I don’t make those same mistakes. Do you understand?”

He opens his mouth, eyes getting hot, the haze of Subspace fading because he doesn’t know if he can really believe it, believe in Dick, believe in something different than what the other Dom made him believe.

“Tim. Check in. Right now.”

“R-Red,” is hoarse, his eyes finally spilling over.

The hold is gone from his neck, and he can pull away, can pull back, the softness of Subspace, the safety in it abruptly fading away until he can at least start to think again.

Well, he can come back up enough to pull away from Dick’s leg, off the pillow where he’d been kneeling, scramble back in his boxers to the far wall while Dick watches him try to hide, try to stop the vulnerability in every twitch of muscle.

“That’s really not how I was hoping to bring you back up this time,” Dick admits softly, and tries to be easy when he stands, keeps his hands loose by his sides, footsteps light when he kneels by the trembling Submissive, one that didn’t have time to come back in his own time, one that probably feels nauseous and disoriented and afraid with the abrupt mental shift.

Eyes intent, Dick Grayson has had enough experiences with Submissives to know the effect of being forced back out of Subspace and leans over slowly, snags a soft throw off his chair to wrap around Tim’s back, ignoring the obvious flinch.

“But, it’s definitely time we talked.”

This time when Dick’s fingers tunnel through his hair, it’s easy and gentle, nails scratching lightly at his scalp, just like back when they were train surfing and vigilante-ing it up all over Gotham and the Haven and most of the world, it’s a comforting thing he’d almost totally forgotten about in the years he’d been on his own.

“N-no, I...no.”

“Yeah, sorry kiddo, but I’m not taking that for an answer. Not anymore.”

And as crazy as it is, he tries to fight it with weak, bound arms and his brain half-trapped in that warm place where nothing hurts, tries to remember Dick is a Dom and anything he says could very well be used against him, but it’s all for nothing when the older vigilante wrangles him off the floor and back in the niche of a lap (safe), wraps both arms around him to keep him from running.

The ending credits are playing in the background, forgotten while Dick gently rocks Tim in his arms, waiting for the shivers to stop.

“Before Jay showed up, you were about to tell me what that other Dom said to you,” is breathed out against his too-long hair. “Maybe we should get back to that, so I can tell you exactly what is bullshit and what is the truth. We can set some boundaries to make this easier for you.”

Clenching his fists against the comfort Dick is making him take, keeping his eyes closed so maybe he doesn’t lose his pride, Tim grits out, “I know the truth, Dick. I’ve helped pull Subs out of underground clubs and shit too.”

Like I really have to remind you. Robin, remember?

“No,” is drawn out a little, Dick’s nose close to his, “you’ve only see the absolute worst of us, Timmy. Unfortunately, vigilantes only get to see the douche bag Doms that hurt their Subs rather than the good ones that understand what a gift it is to have someone compatible trust them enough to submit.”

“The only thing Doms want from their Subs is to fuck them or punish them. You think I don’t know that?”

And oh. Oh, Timmy. Just wait until he finds the Dom that did this to you. “Did I do either of those things to you?”

“T-That doesn’t mean it still isn’t true–”

“It absolutely isn’t true. At all. Don’t get me wrong, there are some Doms that might only want that from their Subs, and it’s their job to find a Sub into that same scene, not to force their preferences on someone else. But as for all of us? Hell, no. Jay isn’t like that and neither is Roy or Donna or Gar or any other Dom I’ve ever met outside of ones I’ve arrested.”

Those eyes flutter open, look sharper, less hazy and compliant, “You hang around with heroes, Dick–”

“Hey! I have a social life outside of vigilantes and metas, Tim. I scene, and often. I was even a therapy Dom for a while, so no. It’s not just because of the people we meet in our nightlife.”

In his lap, Tim shivers, the ring at the bottom of his collar shiny in the light through the windows.

Carefully, Dick reaches behind him and thumbs the D-ring on the right cuff open, lets the other ring slip out so Tim can bring his arms around and hold himself under the blanket.

It’s another way he can help ease the transition out of Subspace.

“This is hard, sweetheart,” he continues softer, reaches under to wrap his fingers around a wrist above the cuff, “I know it is. You haven’t felt safe enough or had the space you need to explore what you like as a Submissive. Part of my job is to help you find out so you can say no when you need to. And I want to help. I want to help you so much. I don’t want you to be afraid to go down or to let go when you need to.”

It makes his heart ache when Tim turns his face away, hunches deeper into himself.

“I’m sorry. I know this isn’t...ideal for you. If there had been time, B and I would have tried to find a Dom you could trust, but you were too close to dropping too hard to wait.”

And he may or may not have lost his mind, both hands fisting in the throw around his bare upper body, when he abruptly blurts out, “I know self-dropping techniques. It’s how...how I’ve dealt with it until now. It’s why I’ve never needed one.”

“It’s not enough anymore, Timmy,” Dick counters gently, appealing to the detective in him, “if you were so far gone that you went down in the middle of a fight, and again on the rooftop, then that’s your proof self-dropping mediation isn’t working anymore. You need to go all the way down, just like you were able to do for me. Twice.”

“I...I can’t. Dick, I can’t–” because the prospect of someone else putting a collar on him, trying to take him down, could possibly learn all his secrets while he’s in Subspace (if someone other than Dick apparently, could even get him there), is someone he would have no choice but to trust, is enough to make him want to run all over again.

“For the time being,” Dick cuts him off, easily listing him to the side, manages to lift his legs on the coffee table and settle deeper in the couch with Tim laying heavily against his chest, head nudged under Dick’s chin, “you’re going to agree to come back here next weekend and let me take you down again. And you’re going to do it for your own health. Because no one would be happy if a Dom like Ra’s al Ghul catches on when you get triggered to drop in the middle of another fight.”

“Are you–?” And even though he feels like his brain is fried from coming up too fast, even though his heart is beating harder, his thoughts faster–

“I’m not saying that!” Dick’s eyes are wide when he looks down, “I’m not saying you should think I’m trying to get a Bond out of you when you haven’t had the chance to know what you really want. But, I am saying I’m going to be your Service Dom until you are comfortable and stable enough to find someone with the same wants in a scene as you. For the time being, I’m here to help you figure out what exactly you like.”

Tim lays his head in his hand and resists groaning because honestly, this is not how he saw tonight going. Like, at all, at all.

“I…” and he’s so close to blurting out how terrified he is of giving up control, of losing himself while he’s down in Subspace.

“It’s okay, Timmy. It’s just me, just Dick. Nothing changes this between us, not the fact you’re a Sub and I’m a Dom. Nothing changes the fact we’re friends and partners and kick-ass vigilantes. So, it’s okay, you can trust me.”

He’s so close to telling Dick exactly what he wants to know that it’s the first thing he can think of to keep Dick from finding out the worst secret–

(I would go down for you every time just to hear you tell me I’m yours.)

“I...I presented after I took over Wayne Enterprises,” is more hoarse than he expected, makes his chest tighter just to start saying the words out loud. “I’d given up on...it was a shock.”

Dick makes soft humming noises, gently slides his hand up in Tim’s hair and scratches his nails against the scalp.

“I was hoping I’d be a Null or a Switch, but a full-blown Sub was...” terrifying “...not what I expected.” He swallows, lets his eyes slide closed to be surrounded by darkness where he knew how to hide. “I knew I needed to get a handle on it, I needed help outside the team and the community, someone that could be discreet.”

With a sinking heart, Dick can make a few guesses as to why Tim had been adamant about keeping the secret to himself when Dick was in the cowl and Dami the new Robin. Those raw wounds still stood between them to this day, and for over a year, Dick had to wonder if they could ever come close to the partnership, the friendship, the comradery they’d once had.

(Dami was my Robin, but so were you Tim. Don’t you get that?)

“The clinic out by the Midtown Bypass,” is soft with memory, “not a lot of crime, pretty quiet when you compare it to the rest of the city. I used a pseud, got a list of Doms to choose from, and went in disguise.”

Thumb moves to the tender spot right at the base of his skull, moves in gentle, mesmerising circles, makes it easier for Tim to fall into his narrative without stopping, without hesitating.

“He wasn’t that much older than me, but his profile said he’d been a Service Dom for over a year, and the ratings were good. No comments, but positive stars. He looked...kind I guess, so I was stupid and didn’t make a contract, thought verbal agreement would be enough.”

(He looked like you. Tall, dark hair, blue eyes, nice smile. It’s stupid how I judged him based on what I started to want but couldn’t have from you.)

He sucks in a deep breath, eyes fluttering to keep the images at bay.

“He sat me down at the table in the room and started talking about the scene he’d planned for newly presented Subs. Said since I was older, he could go a little harder on me to make sure I was absolutely satisfied by the time I left. He said I’d need to go harder since I presented later than most people.”

“A-and he started out pretty easy. I got to keep my pants and an undershirt on, he let me pick music for the scene, told me his hard limits. It seemed to be...fine. No evidence to the contrary. I mean, even if he was a creep or something, I’m a vigilante, I could fight my way out if I had to.”

It’s shaky, the rawness of saying it out loud puts some strength back in Tim’s spine, shocked it comes out so easy when he’d never talked about it, never admitted any of it before today.

He comes closer to the surface, takes a deep, deep breath, and tests the octopus hold, pulling away just enough to be serious.

Dick lets him, and Tim pulls the throw closer around him and finds a perch on the other end of the couch, taking a second to close him eyes, focus on the floor under the coffee table.

He must have been quiet for long enough that just a blink and Dick is kneeling at his feet, bringing soft sweatpants up to his knees. He’s already got a shirt on, and makes it easier for the Dom to pull him standing long enough to bring the pants over his boxers, give him comfort and protection with just clothing.

The cup of coffee warms his palms and he drinks deeply, the confusing mass of wants and needs, fears and traumas starting to ease when he can put his brain in front of it.

With his own coffee, Dick is sitting sideways with less than a foot between them, the illusion of space.

“I’m guessing,” his old mentor and friend draws out, eyes strangely still intense, “you probably waited it out as long as you could, Timmy.”

He looks sideways, startled because he’s still floaty and flighty apparently, and blinks a few times, makes himself focus.

“The worst part,” comes out of somewhere deep in him, “is that he made perfect sense with what I was feeling at the time. I...I couldn’t move against him when it came down to it. I couldn’t pick his restraints and get myself free. He told me that this is what I was meant for, what Subs were supposed to be, and not to try fighting it. I wouldn’t win.” He blinks, his eyes feeling hot and heavy. “I mean, yeah, yeah. His first lesson was not to fight whatever my Dom wanted to do to me, never to say no. Second lesson was my Dom would punish me. No matter what, every Sub gets punished, and most Doms choose pain. Most of them enjoy it, and it’s the Sub’s job to give them what they enjoy.”

And he can feel the emotions emanating from Dick, even though the Dom is utterly still. He can feel how badly his vigilante partner wants to put on the black and blue suit, make some people that deserve it feel pain.

The Submissive in him wants to huddle into that strength, wants to trust Dick won’t hurt him, won’t use him, won’t be one of those Doms.

(But he hasn’t done anything awful, hasn’t been what that other Dom was, so he can trust Dick… can’t he?)

“He started with a ruler, then used his hand, rectangle paddle, oval paddle, belt, crop, and cane. I could barely walk out the next day, had to...” but those memories of having nowhere to go after leaving that clinic, a time when the Cave and the Manor weren’t home, weren’t safe makes him suck in a breath through his nose.

And it’s a hand gentle on his wrist, fingers circling without seeming like it’s suffocating–

(because he really believes if he pulls away, he knows Dick will probably let him go)

–that brings him out again. “So...it was the first time I kind of went under, and I hated every second of it. That’s why the chemical balancers and Dom supplements. Self-dropping meditation. It’s safer than trying again.”

Dick is oddly quiet and intense, the muscles of his biceps and thighs tense, but the hand on him is still loose, thumb moving over his pulse.

“So, you don’t have to...do this. It’s kind of you to offer, Dick, but I’ll figure it out again. My system is going to be clear in a few days and I can come up with another solution. But I appreciate–”

“Timmy, it’s not safe for you to go back on balancers and supplements, at least not for a while,” is gentle but still firm in a way that’s still shocking coming from Dick Grayson, a way that’s so different from the vigilante big brother he thought he’d lost for good, but still recently bullied his way in the Tower to start making Tim come back to Gotham again. (He’d totally claimed a couch in the communal room with unapologetic stubbornness. Pure exasperation from the Titans made him finally give in and literally take one for the team. He hadn’t imagined this is how that little sitch was going to end up...or the fact he’s got a room in the Manor again. Talk about a throwback.)

“When you’re balanced again, you’re going to go back to the Tower and rest for at least forty-eight hours. You can do analysis and work the back end on some of your cases, but no out and about until after that. The team can handle the field work for a few days.”

He blinks again, starts to open his mouth to argue, muscles tensing because he’s close enough to the surface, closer to himself to be able to fight.

“Hear me out,” and Dick somehow creeps just that much closer, “self-dropping and supplements will only take you so far, Timmy. Doms are the same way. We get the endorphins we need from having a scene. Sometimes it’s just about being touched, like we did today. Sometimes it’s about needing another person to make you stop, like we did first. For me, it’s being that person that can anticipate those needs, to be allowed to give my Sub these things.”

To keep from being admitting out loud how much he needed to be touched, how right Dick called it,, Tim sips his coffee again, glad to see his hands have stopped shaking.

“I just want you to completely understand what that Dom did to you was wrong. I didn’t make you tell me much while you were down because most of us respect Submissives, just like I respect you.”

And based on the evidence, he can’t call bullshit here. “All right. I see your point about not suiting up, I mean, I do feel less scattered than before.” Because he has to admit it to himself, how much better he feels after he’s gone down, how much calmer in that hidden part of his brain he tries to suppress. That if Dick really calls for that part of him again, how he’ll probably slide down to his knees, craving to be a good boy again. “I didn’t know it could…”

“You didn’t know it could work without pain or sex,” Dick fills in gently. “I hope you know it can be different, just like we’ve done so far.”

“I’d really like if you would listen to a few audio files while you’re working, just some lectures from an expert on Dom/Sub relationships. I really think–”

He pauses when Tim turns, eyes narrowed, clearer than he’d been since going down the first time, and the patient look is so very familiar. “By the time the Dominant and Submissive electives were available at my high school, I had already pretty much dropped out. Robin shit was going down in those years.”

And idea sparks in the back of Dick’s mind where the Dom is still hovering, is still intense, noting everything with his Sub, still angry he didn’t have enough time for more aftercare. If anything, an abused Sub deserved more cuddling and spoiling from a good Dominant, and watching Tim draw away, start putting the mask back on before he was ready, before he was able to come back up on his own terms, sweet and soft and balanced, ready to tackle the world.

It grates on him, makes him want one more chance to take the third Robin down so he doesn’t feel like he has to hide.

But the idea turns into a plan, on all the ways he should be showing his Submissive how their dynamic should be, how a healthy relationship between the orientations should work. How he could work punishments without pain while creating scenes to give Tim the freedom to explore his preferences.

Dick props his elbow on the back of the couch, and refuses to back off even an inch.

“Then give me a chance to show you, Tim. A blood test will prove you need to go down at least once a week for a while, then maybe stretch it out to once a month to get your system back to normal. Give me some of that time as your Service Dom to help you. Together, I can help you figure out what you need as a Submissive.”

And it’s so absolutely fucking unfair for Dick to look that intense, and Tim is sitting there never even thought he’d be facing a Dom actually pleading with him.

His brain still warming up, picking up on the possibilities of hitting a hard few nights and dropping in the middle of another fight, of Kon or Bart or Cassie getting hurt because he couldn’t keep himself together, because he was terrified of going down and being vulnerable.

“...okay. Okay. Until my system is back to normal, and I can either find another Dom or another option.” He swallows hard, wonders how much he’s going to end up regretting this.

But it’s almost comical to watch Dick’s tense shoulders relax, and the blinding smile come back to his face, already making Tim feel like he’s accomplished something just by giving in.

“Thank-you, sweetheart, that’s exactly what I was hoping to hear.” And just like that, the dynamic shifts between them, and the hand tightens down on his wrist again, “so why don’t we have one more try before bed? You could absolutely use it, and I have...another idea.”

It’s not until much later when the rope burns around his chest are just lightly stinging in a way that’s so right. It’s later when he’s buzzing off the easy fall into Subspace that seemed impossible even a day or so ago. It’s later when he’s lazily flopped in Dick’s bed, sipping juice from a straw, blinking up at the soft expression on his Dom’s face, something heavy-lidded and sated that the thought comes out of nowhere–

I really am going to regret this...once it’s over.

**

Spoiler AN: I’ve talked to some people about keeping the main story as a non-sexual submission on their part, but that is not to say I don’t have a doc with some beginnings of serious D/S play. So, that will probably be like one shots or something ;) But if you made it this far, thanks for reading babes <3

[ty-talks-comics]

Best of DC: Week of March 27th, 2019

Best of this Week: Detective Comics #1000 - Various Writers and Artists

Possibly more controversial than I'm thinking it'll be, I'm glad Scott Snyder and Greg Capullo did the job of reintroducing Slam Bradley into the DC Universe. Slam Bradley, of course the way I choose to remember him, was one of DC's first characters and the precursor design to modern day Superman. He was a 1930s dick (detective in this case) who made his name in infamy with racist depictions of Chinese people being swung by their braids with toothy grins. He's likely the reason DC won't reprint some of the early Detective Comics works in a compendium.

This is without a doubt, a great celebration for one of the greatest comic book characters of all time, if not THE greatest. The difficulty in reviewing something like this, much like Action Comics #1000 (if I reviewed that one, I don't remember) is that so many stories have their ups and downs, hits or misses and there's so much ground. But some of these were so good that this book is getting an entry all on it's own this week.

He's been made better in recent years with a badass run as a side character in Ed Brubaker and Darwyn Cooke's Catwoman (2001) as a cool former police officer with a son by the name of Slam Jr. on the force. He was probably some of the best parts of his short time there and was very compelling in interactions with Selina.

Kevin Smith and Jim Lee have arguably done some of the best and WORST Batman projects ever, but through the good and the bad, both have immense talent and their tale “Manufacture for Use” added a beautiful layer to the significance of the metal plate that his emblem is made out of.

The book is simple enough, a montage of Batman fighting his greatest villains shows in the background while his alter ego, Matches Malone, has a conversation with a merchant peddling in the various pieces of gear left by villains. He has Harley hammers, crazy quilts and even freeze guns, but there's only one weapon Malone is interested in; The Gun belonging to Joe Chill. The weapon that killed The Wayne Family.

He and others had been leaving Batman clues since his first days as a hero to have him join a guild of detectives, solving unsolvable or very difficult cases and knowing that Slam is one of the detectives along with Hawkman, Hawkgirl, Martian Manhunter, The Question, Detective Chimp, Elongated Man and his wife, Sue Dibny is relieving and fantastic.

I'm glad DC hasn't shied away from him given his past history. Even his inclusion in Superman of China based on his former character, warts and all, seemed like DC was kinda ashamed of it, but here he is, as awesome as he was later in life!

Upon seeing it, Alfred questions why Bruce would keep it as a trophy, nothing the ridiculousness of The Penny and the Dinosaur, he sees the gun as strange or even perverse. Batman, however, wishes to never see it cause anyone pain again, melting and forming it into an oval adorned with the symbol of a Bat.

Batman has dedicated his life to stopping crime in Gotham at all costs, but not everyone see his methods as being right or just. Doctor Leslie Thompkins has been looking over Bruce since his parent’s murder and oped that he would take his pain and do something productive with it, actually fix Gotham, but instead she sees how vengeance has consumed him, turning him into something of a violent monster himself and she’s not wrong. They meet each other on the anniversary of his parent’s murder in Crime Alley and are beset upon by a group of teenagers whom Batman viciously slaps the hell out of. Dr. Thompkins stops him out of fear and Batman looks like the real villain here.

If that isn't chilling...

Brian Michael Bendis is a GREAT Batman writer. Checking out his 15 pages in the Batman Walmart 100 Page Giants, much like Daredevil, Batman is a character that is PERFECT for him. “I Know” drawn by frequent Bendis collaborator, Alex Maleev, is amazing. Penguin started becoming disillusioned with the meetings put together by villains like The Joker on how to finally get rid of The Batman, Penguin begins to muse about who had the money to fund Batman. I believe he proposed the idea to the others, but they all shot him down, citing times Batman showed up when Bruce was a hostage or how he “blubbered like a baby.”

Penguin didn’t let it go, however, and prepared Suicide Bomb Penguins to attack Wayne Manor while Bruce was hosting a ton of high profile Gothamites. It would have been the end of Bruce Wayne.

Warren Ellis writes some very character driven stories, but when he has to get technical, he is a master as good as any. In “The Batman’s Design” he goes over Batman’s methodology when taking on criminals, treating things like a chess game that he’s already won. He leads the criminals to a trap and plays them like a fiddle, setting off an explosion that knock out or send some flying, determining a sniper’s location and just being so terrifying that the leader just hands him a bomb switch before his ass gets destroyed.

Becky Cloonan does a great job of alternating between cool and warm tones for when Batman is in the shadows vs contending with explosions he’s setting off. Batman looks slim, but imposing regardless. This is definitely some of her best art so far!

Now… if you ask any of my friends from when I was in The Navy, they’ll tell you about how I waited in line for Batman: The Arkham Knight. I was excited. I was elated. The conclusion to an amazing trilogy of games that shaped a newfound love for the character for me! And it bloody sucked. I HATE Arkham Knight with a passion. If it’s not The Batmobile, it’s the Joker, if not the Joker, it’s the Knight himself, if not him, then Scarecrow as the shitty final villain.

I really loved the noir tone that was set by Elizabeth Breitweiser’s colors over Steve Epting’s art. Things are very dark and cool. Batman is shrouded in shadow and Doctor Thompkins acts as a small light by comparison. There is great contrast when action happens with warm tones as Batman slaps the teens and Batman standing in the shadows as Leslie and the kids are under the one light is powerful.

Suffice to say, I was not pleased when it was said that The Arkham Knight would finally be appearing in comics different than his video game counterpart, but… I dunno, I kinda like him here.

His characterization seems to be that of someone who has lived in Gotham and has seen Batman’s methods of treating the poor citizens, the weak and the sick. He sees Batman as a cancer, a darkness that needs to be exterminated for Gotham to truly thrive. The best thing, there’s precedent for this kind of character.

One of the first few arcs for Detective Comics involved a cool set of villains known as The Victim Syndicate, people who have been hurt or grievously injured in Batman’s relentless pursuit of crime. These guys put Batman’s team through the ringer, almost turning Stephanie Brown against him completely as Tim Drake had been presumed dead at the time. Another casualty of war. If I remember right, The First Victim noted that there was someone or something coming for Batman soon and if that’s the Arkham KNight, then I am excited.

The Victim Syndicate was one of James Tynion IV’s best ideas during his run and I really hope whoever the creative team is for Detective Comics thus forth lives up to the quality. Peter J. Tomasi and Doug Mahnke are both amazing, so I have high hopes if its them.

But Penguin had an epiphany. Ending Bruce Wayne would not end Batman. Batman would become focused. Driven. Possibly to the point of killing. Bruce Wayne is the only thing keeping these villains alive, so Penguin relents and never reveals what he believes he knows, until years later when Bruce is old and mute… but who says that Bruce has lost a step? He zaps Penguin who is taken away as Bruce tells him that he knew, pretty much calling him a “coward ass bitch” as he’s taken away.

Overall, while there were few misses, this collection of stories had great ideas, great characterization, heart and was just fantastic. Looking forward to another 80 years!

This one was just cute. The Batfamily interacts with each other and take a FANTASTIC family photo drawn by Tony S. Daniel. Starring, Batman, Alfred, Nightwing, Batgirl, “Robin” Damian Wayne, Red Hood, Batwoman, Catwoman, “(Red) Robin” Tim Drake, Spoiler, The Signal, Cassandra Cain Ace the Bathound and Huntress. It’s a well put together double splash page and everyone, even Bruce seems happy.

[renaroo]

Promises (11/30)

Disclaimer: Batman and associated characters are the creative property of DC Comics. Warnings: One Year Later/Evil Cass allusions Rating: T Synopsis: For an entire year after the Crisis which threatened to wipe everything they knew and loved off the Earth, after so many hardships and loved ones lost, Cass and Tim find themselves battling on different sides of the globe not only for the fate of what’s left of the world, but for the sake of once again feeling purpose. [A One Year Later fixer upper]

A/N: Ohhhh boy. So, I didn’t have the opportunity to update this fic prior to my big move which has kept me pretty busy and my life completely consumed until about this week, unfortunately. But! I’m back now and more than ready to give my writing the attention it really deserves, I’m glad to say. Thank you to everyone who was so patient in waiting for this update and I hope that it’s worth the time you’ve been waiting! 

Special thanks to @mitchthebat, @go-wandering, @pullinajalonzallnite, @secretlystephaniebrown, and Kiyomisa on tumblr, ffnet, and AO3 for the feedback and support!

The Family Affair

Tim had always hated engaging in the high society and unknowable nuances of formal dinners. The few times his parents traveled with him had meant a risk of causing incident with international archeological diplomacy on the line.

It made Tim worldly and terrified of social conduct well beyond his years.

Those long buried memories were the only ones in mind which could even come close to his discomfort at the feast tent, sitting beside Dick on pillows which Talia’s guard had set up for them — Talia at the head of the gathering and Bruce sat across from them.

Though, of course, Tim also supposed that awkward was a close enough sensation to it as well. Maybe that should have been his first instinctive association.

And by maybe, he of course meant most likely.

“I am afraid, Robin, that we only have access to local cuisine,” Talia spoke lightly. “My resources are stretched thin as it is at the moment, I have various assets in the region requiring my…” Talia trailed off, looking toward Bruce meaningfully, “guardianship.”

Bruce took another drink prior to returning Talia’s gaze.

“There are many things in this region which require my attention as well,” Bruce replied. “Direct or otherwise.”

There was something in his tone that made both Tim and Dick glance to each other, like they couldn’t tell if it was something they alone had heard. But it wasn’t.

There was a context to the conversation utterly lost on them.

Talia looked to Tim again, her gaze all but freezing him in place. “Robin, if you do require something, however, you have only to ask.”

It was becoming obvious to Tim that he was encroaching on rude behavior, and anxieties buried with childhood began to fester once more.

He looked at the Ethiopian food, something he actually had liked for most of his life, and felt his stomach betray him with a sickly turn. It wasn’t made better by imagining it as American fast food either.

It was like Tim’s appetite had gone on strike and he only just realized how little hunger had motivated him at all in the last few months.

The connection as to why seemed obvious, but Timothy Drake had made himself familiar with denial since the first moments of realizing his heroes were only human in every way that hurt under their masks.

“Thanks, but I’ve not had much of an appetite today. The food looks… great though,” Tim fumbled through his words.

Considering the looks he received, Tim wasn’t sure if his explanation was completely accepted at face value. Fortunately, though, no one seemed all that interested in testing him either. Soon Talia turned her full attention back to Bruce and to the strangely stilted conversation that had been carrying on between them.

“Last we spoke I had chosen the side of my sister, as I recall,” Talia continued. “It was important to me that you understood my adherence to family. Even when that family no longer held the guidance and instruction of my father. I would assume that you still feel very much the same when it comes to family.”

“Of course,” Bruce answered. “And considering you and your sister’s hands in Ra’s no longer being the head of your family, I suppose my own part in the destruction of the Lazarus Pits is not held against me or mine.”

Dick wiped the corners of his mouth with a napkin, slowly eyeing the two adults. “Well, this isn’t uncomfortable at all,” he muttered.

“Of course, my Beloved,” Talia answered simply. “If either Nyssa or I felt different you surely would have been made aware. The problems with my father’s inheritance have mostly to do with those who have taken pieces from his legacy for themselves in some banal attempts at a rebellion.”

Bruce seemed interested, folding his hands together. “Whisper A’Daire and her anthropomorphic followers, I’d assume.”

“How did you know?” Talia asked genuinely impressed.

“She had been the lead in the attack on Gotham after its recovery from the No Man’s Land sanctions. Her addiction to the poison which turned her and the others in that sect of your father’s empire was matched only by her servitude to him. Your insurrection along with your sister would not be conducive to her already unsteady loyalty and she and the other members of that sect following the word of the Book of Cain were still active in Gotham despite your sister’s promise to me as lately as the Gotham Gang Wars,” he concluded strongly. “My only question is why Nyssa would be against you meeting with me when I can assume we all similarly would like to see an end put to the Cult of Crime.”

“She is confident that its conclusion will come at the hands of someone you left in Gotham, my Beloved,” Talia explained. “Her concern comes only from how much control you can maintain from where you are now.”

Tim frowned, putting the pieces together himself. Bruce was concerned about Gotham, second guessing their journey, he could already tell. But Talia… she was speaking in half truths. And Tim wasn’t sure if Bruce was in a mind to see it after she had already helped them out.

So, against those instincts of self preservation, Tim coughed into his fist and drew attention to himself. Good children were seen but not heard. And Tim had always found a way to not be a good little child.

“Nyssa’s attention would be less on Gotham if she was worried about a different insurrection right under her nose,” Tim pointed out. “And I have it, from a few little Birdies, that she no longer has Lady Shiva supporting her claim. That would mean she needed someone else to support her who would have either a legitimate claim or was respected by the League of Assassins.” Tim squinted at Talia. “Wouldn’t you have both of those in check if you were behind her?”

“Tim,” Dick muttered lowly toward him.

Talia smiled. “Robin, you are becoming quite the detective yourself.”

“Are you turning against your sister, Talia? Do you need our help?” Bruce asked a little too freely for Tim’s tastes.

“Your concerns are noted, my Beloved. And appreciated. But I am not taking claim against my sister, merely removing a chess piece from her set,” Talia answered. “Some would claim that to be even worse.”

“What could be more important than a blood heir like the two of you?” Dick asked in concern.

The smile that sat flatly on Talia’s face was unsettling to Tim. “Perhaps it was impolite to bring such matters to the table. They are better for another time.”

“And when would that be?” Tim pressed protectively.

“Tim,” Bruce said, a cautious furrow in his brow. It was still enough to make Tim back off. At least for the time being.

Dick began wrapping some of the food in a napkin. “For when you get hungry tonight,” he said to Tim.

The rest of the dinner was quiet and cold.

There were small, private tents available but Talia and Bruce were in the main tent where they had ate well after Tim was ready to sleep.

That, of course, ended with Tim laying on his back, staring at the tent above him and anxious about what could be keeping Bruce up and with Talia rather than conferring with them in the private tent. There was a third place made for Bruce, but hours later it still wasn’t filled by him.

Dick, to his credit, had came along not much later than Tim had, but he never fully laid down to sleep.

Even with one arm in a cast, Dick was determined to exercise his body with his usual routine. It was the kind of dedication to exercise that Tim might have found inspiring for himself if he wasn’t thoroughly uninterested in maintaining his own shape at the time. Instead, he was just watching the tent, the ripples in the fabric as it rolled with the desert winds.

“What are you thinking, Tim?”

After a few moments of silence, Tim turned his head enough to look at Dick as he continued his one armed pushups. He frowned a bit more. “What am I thinking?” he parroted.

“You’re quiet and you weren’t stuffing your face with food,” Dick pointed out. “Very unlike you. Plus you kept looking at Talia like you were going to leap over the table and tackle her at a moment’s notice. Pretty sure that she was prodding you for it.”

“Was she?” Tim asked before looking back at the ceiling. “I don’t think she’s being fully honest with us.”

“Not surprising,” Dick countered.

“And neither is Bruce.” Tim added it before he could even think over the words, realize what he was saying. But the moment they left him, he knew that there wasn’t any taking them back. He glanced over to Dick a little sheepishly, unsure of how he’d react to the statement.

Taking a deep breath, Dick finished a last push up before dropping to his knees and rising up to sit back, legs folded beneath him. There was a light sweat on his brow as he looked at Tim, which only served to distract Tim from the tight frown for a few seconds.

In the silence, Tim’s heart was pounding, threatening to break free from his chest at a moment’s notice.

“Fair,” Dick finally said, reluctantly like Tim was all but pulling the word out of him. “There’s something strange going on. But do we have any idea what?”

Too relieved to really give Dick’s question that much thought, Tim melted into his pillows and shrugged slightly in return.

“I don’t know, but Bruce hasn’t been big on providing answers lately,” he said back to Dick.

Nodding, Dick began to settle down in the cot laid out for him. “That’s fair.” When he settled, Tim could hear the breaths he took with a regular rhythm.

Somehow, the sound of it settled Tim’s nerves, began to lull him into a gentle rest.

“Are you hungry?” Dick asked without warning. “I still have the rolls from dinner.”

“Mmebeem lahturrf,” Tim tried his best to answer, but an unnatural tiredness was overcoming him. And even then, Dick was snoring before him.

The moment Tim woke up it was to a clatter of metal and the shine of a sword inches from his face.

It was a startling moment, one that nearly froze him in his cot, but as deadly as hesitation could often be for them in their line of duty, it didn’t cost Tim his life yet. Not because the sword had been stopped by his prepared hand or because of anything he did to save himself, but because a second blade wielded by none other than Talia al Ghul herself was bracing over Tim’s head, fighting back the sword meant for his neck.

For a moment, Tim wasn’t thinking about anything — a bleary haze in his brain trying to process what the hell had just happened. Then his first coherent thought bubbled to the surface, a nagging question of why as he looked at the ferocity on Talia’s face.

“Tell your master that the sword has been drawn,” Talia hissed at the cloaked dervish.

For a moment, Tim was just impressed more than anything else, but before the dervish could back down and run off, there was a flurry of movement and the dervish’s feet were knocked out from under him. The dervish flung backward onto his back but did not get far before the same flurry of motion knocked him out with the same viciousness that Talia had been using to defend Tim earlier.

When the moment was over and Tim could clearly see Dick was the blur, he felt even more relief, able to breathe easier.

Talia seemed less impressed. “He was to deliver a message for me,” she snapped at him. “Now it shall be delayed.”

“We need to interrogate him and find out who he is and why he was after us,” Dick snapped back.

Feeling a need to do more than sit dumbly in his bed, Tim pushed himself up onto his knees. “Yeah, I’d be interested in that, too.”

“Apprehending the warrior was not necessary for that endeavor!” Talia defended. “I can recognize the elite guard of my own family. And now our time is cut shorter due to the politics at play.”

Getting to their feet at the same time, Dick and Tim glanced toward each other questioningly.

“Your family’s? So that means…” Tim got out slowly just before the flaps of their tent were blown open.

“The dervishes are from Nyssa Raatko, she has decided to make her move,” Bruce said as he entered, a strangely familiar, stoic expression on his face. It was as if he had slipped back into an old hat, an old cowl in those moments.

“Dervishes? Plural?” Dick asked before heading toward the edge of the tent and raising the flap open himself.

Sure enough, there were multiple similarly dressed warriors left strewn across the dark night sands of the desert. There were more without slashing wounds than there were with, but Tim could still see them clearly, and when he reexamined the blade in Talia’s hands he could see a matching sight of gore.

But that meant that she had been fighting with Bruce while Tim and Dick had not even woke yet. That meant that his unnatural tiredness was—

“We were drugged,” Tim deduced.

“Not all these dervishes appeared out of nowhere,” Dick equally deduced, a furious glare on his face as he turned back to face Talia and Bruce.

Bruce had no reaction but Talia… Well, by Tim’s estimates she almost seemed pained.

“I have declared war on my family,” Talia stated without remorse, no matter her expression. “The repercussions of such will go beyond me.” Then, to Tim’s surprise, her Lazarus green eyes turned squarely onto Tim. “They already have once tonight. And so I must see to it that others are not harmed likewise.”

To that, Tim squinted uncomfortably. He wasn’t sure what she meant.

“You can’t leave alone, not after this,” Bruce said firmly.

Talia looked over her shoulder and almost tisked him for the concern. “Beloved, it is not a decision for you to make. Not when my own have betrayed me once tonight already. I will not have them endangering my heart as well.”

Surprisingly, at least for Tim, Bruce didn’t seem to have any visible reaction to Talia’s claims. Instead, he merely watched her as she left the tent as mysteriously as she had come into their journey back at the market, and it left an unsettled, confused feeling in Tim’s stomach. He could not shake the same sense he had at dinner that something larger, something more pressing, was going on, and he was maybe the only one who was blissfully unaware of the remaining details.

It was not a feeling Tim appreciated, not when the last few times he had been removed from the grander details it had all led to him losing things he would have never possibly thought he could afford to lose.

“Are the two of you alright?” Bruce finoallyasked, turning back to Dick and Tim.

“Groggy, but I’ll power through it,” Dick said firmly before glancing to Tim. “What about you, Timbo?”

“Fine. What are we doing next?” Tim asked, more that happy to change the subject. “We can’t just leave this stone unturned—“

“It doesn’t have to do with us for now,” Bruce said firmly, surprising them both.

“It… doesn’t?” Dick pressed, brow raised suspiciously.

“No, and we don’t have the time to spare. Talia can reach me if she needs to,” Bruce continued, pushing forward.

“Where do we have to get that is so important?” Tim asked, gathering his stuff as quickly as possible.

“Nanda Parapet,” Bruce answered. “To meet a friend.”

[weekendwarriorblog]

WHAT TO WATCH THIS WEEKEND April 5, 2019  - SHAZAM, PET SEMATARY, THE BEST OF ENEMIES, PETERLOO

Sadly, this is yet another weekend where I wasn’t able to see two of the three new movies, but that’s because I’m in Las Vegas covering CinemaConfor The Beat, but I do want to write a little more about a movie coming out this weekend that I want to put a little added focus on. Back in the day, I used to include a “Chosen One” in each week’s column, and I’m getting to the point where I’d like to try to do something like that again… and so, after the jump, you will get my review of one such film.

That movie is PETERLOO (Amazon), the new movie from director Mike Leigh, an eight-time Oscar nominee whose work has garnered him much respect and whose work I’ve especially enjoyed, particularly Vera Drake and Happy-Go-Lucky. The first of these is significant because it’s one of Leigh’s rare historic pieces but his last movie Mr. Turner went one further by telling the story of a real person, in that case, painter J.M.W. Turner, as played by Tim Spall.

Peterloo is somewhat of a departure for Mr. Leigh, since it isn’t focused on a small group of two to four characters, instead telling a massively complex storyline about a peaceful rally in Manchester that was racked by violence when politicians decided to disperse the crowd.

I have to admit that as Peterloo began on the battlefield of Waterloo, I wasn’t sure to expect, thinking it might be Leigh’s attempt at a war film, but the story follows a young bugler, Joseph, whom we see on the battlefield before he returns home to Manchester with a case of PTSD.  His family, and in fact, the whole town, is suffering from poverty and hunger, and there’s a growing desire to be represented in the Parliament in London so that things might improve. The city’s grew white hope is one Henry Hunt, played by Rory Kinnear, and he’s going to travel up to Manchester to talk to the people who will presumably vote for him.

Once it gets going, Peterloo is such a fascinating film. I’m really curious to see how Americans will react to it, because while it’s just as typically British as Leigh’s previous work, it’s a movie that’s more about British history and British politics, and I’m just not sure if that’s the sort of thing that will connect with Americans.

I can completely understand why some might be frustrated with Leigh’s latest, because it is very long, it does take some time to get going, and a lot of time you might not know exactly what is going on or what is being discussed.  I certainly wasn’t exactly sure what was going on or who some of the characters were as they flew through the vast ensemble cast moving from one character and location to another. Eventually, you get used to this pace and start seeing familiar faces that makes things much clearer.  Leigh also uses this tactic to create layers that build and build to the climactic last half hour of the film where violence disrupts an otherwise peaceful day. It’s quite the counterpoint to the war scene that opens the film, but don’t worry. Joseph doesn’t get lost in the shuffle, as you might suspect, because it really follows his journey despite often focusing on others.

One of the things I especially liked about Leigh’s latest is that while it does often get somber and serious, there’s still a wit to it, especially in the way it deals with the stupidity of the politicians and magistrates who seem to have little care for the people they’re supposed to be representing.

Oddly, two days after seeing Peterloo, I saw the Broadway musical Hamilton, a historical piece that takes place in America earlier than the events of Leigh’s film, but it offered a similar resonance to me, even though it did so with musical numbers rather than talking.

Leigh’s screenplay is another masterpiece, but I was equally impressed by the casting of such a large ensemble, many with British actors whom few on these shores will have ever seen or heard of. I’m really curious to know where he found them, because he’s become so known for working with the same small group of actors over the years, and almost everyone in this movie is new to the Leigh camp.

Personally, I think this is Leigh’s best film in many, many years, possibly on par with some of his best work even though I know it deals with a far more difficult (and localized) subject. Regardless, it’s also a film I will gladly see a second time just to catch some of the nuances I may have missed the first time around.

Rating: 8.5/10

Now, back to your regularly scheduled preview column…

As far as the wide releases, I’ve only seen one of them and that was SHAZAM! (New Line/WB), the latest DC Comics character to be brought to the big screen, in this case by Swedish filmmaker David F. Sandberg (Lights Out). I already reviewedthe movie for The Beat, so I don’t have much more to say about it (other than my Box Office Preview, which is ALSO at The Beat), but I did enjoy this quite a bit, maybe not as much as Aquaman but definitely as much as Wonder Woman. It’s a good movie that shows you can do something different with supereheroes and still make a movie work on its own merits (rather than connecting to future movies)

The other movie I’m really looking forward to seeing (when I get back from Vegas) is the new version of Stephen King’s PET SEMATARY (Paramount), directed by Kevin Kolsch and Dennis Widmyer, who found some fans in the horror crowd with their earlier film Starry Eyes.  I guess the cast could be more interesting, although I do love John Lithgow and Amy Seimetz has been a favorite of mine from the indie work she’s done. And I don’t hate Jason Clarke either, although some of his choices in films (other than last year’s Chappaquidick, in which he was great) sometimes leaves me scratching my head.

Robin Bissell’s THE BEST OF ENEMIES (STXfilms) is a civil rights drama that one would normally see during Oscar season, since it stars Oscar winner Sam Rockwell and nominee Taraji P. Henson. This story is interesting to me as someone who loved last year’s Green Book, mainly because there are stories like this (and that) from the ‘60s that deserve to be told. Unfortunately, I’m missing this due to CinemaCon as well, so hopefully I’ll have a chance to see it when I’m back in New York.

LIMITED RELEASES

Besides Peterloo, reviewed above, there’s a few other films I recommend seeking out, and hopefully the first three of these will expand into other places than big cities after this weekend:

Correction: Oops!! It looks like I missed the fact that Teen Spirit will not open in select cities until April 12, so I’ll rerun my write-up on it next week

Seemingly a lost project/movie, the late filmmaker Sydney Pollack was commissioned by Warner Bros. Records to capture a concert by Aretha Franklin singing gospel songs for a movie, but it was shelved due to technical difficulties. More than 45 years later, that concert is presented in AMAZING GRACE (NEON), and if there ever was any doubt in your mind about what an amazing singer Franklin was, this movie will certainly change that. It opens in select cities.

Opening in New York, L.A. and other cities is Emma Tammi’s Western werewolf movie THE WIND (IFC Midnight), which played at TIFF and Fantastic Fest last year and the more-recent What the Fest in New York. It stars Caitlin Gerard from Insidious: The Last Key as a rugged woman who has moved into a cabin on the American frontier in the early 19thCentury, where she immediately starts feeling as if there’s a sinister presence, possibly tied to the only other couple who lives out there. Her husband (Ashley Zukerman) doesn’t believe her.  If you like Westerns and want to see one with a dominant female presence (both in front and behind the camera) then you’ll want to check this out.

I guess this is as good a place as any to mention that one of my favorite filmmaker Terry Gilliam’s new movie The Man Who Killed Don Quixote will be available to see nationwide on Tuesday via Fathom Events. The movie, starring Adam Driver, Jonathan Pryce and a number of amazing European actors who I was unfamiliar with, is one that Gilliam has been trying to make for over 20 years and no surprise, it harks back to his great films like The Adventures of Baron Munchausen and The Fisher King, which came out during the filmmaker’s heyday. I’m just so happy Gilliam was finally able to make this movie, and it actually turned out quite well.. maybe a little weird for some tastes, but not too weird for lifelong Gilliam fans like myself. 

Hilary Duff stars in the title role of Daniel Ferrands’ THE HAUNTING OF SHARON TATE (Saban Films) about the murder of the 26-year-old actress who was pregnant with Roman Polanski’s baby when she was murdered by Charles Manson and his cult.It opens in theaters and will be available On Demand starting Friday.

Jordan Downey’s The Head Hunter (Vertical) involves a medieval warrior who is protecting the kingdom from monsters, collecting their heads as he slays them. The one monster he hasn’t killed yet is the one that killed his daughter, so he travels on horseback to try to get revenge. It opens in select cities and On Demand.

Jai Courtney stars in Shawn Seet’s adaptation of Colin Thiele’s Storm Boy (Good Deed Entertainment), an Australian drama in which the retired businessman Michael Kingley reflects back on his past life. Some of these memories including a story about how as a boy, he rescued an orphaned pelican and named it Mr. Percival.

Filmmaker Emilio Estevez’s latest film, the political drama The Public (Greenwich), will also open Friday after playing TIFF and a few other festivals. It stars Alec Baldwin with Estevez, Jena Malone, Taylor Schilling, Christian Slater, Gabrielle Union, Michael K. Williams and Jeffrey Wright, and with a cast like that, do you really need to know what the movie is about? Okay, fine. It takes place in a public library in Cincinnati where a number of homeless patrons take it over during an Arctic blast, seeking shelter from the cold but also staging an act of civil disobedience, in the process.

Showing FREE OF CHARGE at New York’s Film Forum (as part of their annual Free Movie Week) starting Wednesday is Cam Christiansen’s animated doc Wall, which looks at the decision by Israel to build the 435-mile long wall to separate the Palestinian West Bank from the rest of Israel. Building that $4 billion wall meant the confiscation of 4,000 acres of Palestinian land and the destruction of 1,000 trees…and that area is still in disarray. So yeah… building walls is a bad idea.

Stephanie Wang-Breal’s documentary Blowin’ Up (Once in a Blue) deals with the first-ever court created to deal with prostitution in Queens, New York, the Queens Human Intervention Trafficking Court led by the Honorable Toko Serita. The purpose is to help deal with the women and girls arrested for prostitution who are illegal Asian immigrants or are black, Latina or trans, so they get shuffled through the system without it ever dealing with the complex reasons why they turn to prostitution. The doc opens at the Quad in New York Friday and then in L.A. on April 12.

Opening at the Metrograph in New York City is Qiu Sheng’s feature debut Suburban Birds (Cinema Guild) involving two narrative strands, one involving land surveyors who are laying subway tracks, the other involving pre-adolescents who rove the streets of the town unsupervised. It sounds…um… interesting?

Josh Stewart from Criminal Minds writes, directs and stars in Back Fork (Uncork’d) as family man Waylon who is struggling to keep his life together after tragedy, becoming more dependent on pills. Also starring Agnes Bruckner, the film will open in select cities and be available On Demand starting April 9.

LOCAL FESTIVALS

First up, on Tuesday began the 11th Annual ReelAbilities Film Festival at the JCC Manhattan, celebrating those who have fought past what would normally be considered “disabilities” to greatness. It kicked off with the Opening Night Gala and Screening of Irene Taylor Brodsky’s Moonlight Sonata: Deafness in Three Movements, a documentary about a boy with genetic deafness who grew up with cochlear implants whose grandfather is adverse against using such technology in his old age. The festival runs through April 9 where the Closing Night film is Nick Kelly’s The Drummer and the Keeper about a drummer dealing with a bipolar diagnosis. In between is a full line-up of narratives and documentaries exploring different disabilities from blindness to mental disorders, and it’s quite an amazing array of films, many which might not ever get distribution, sadly. Screenings take place all over the city including Bellevue Hospital, Lincoln Center and the Museum of the Moving Image in Queens.

Although the 22nd Annual Full Frame Documentary Film Festival takes place in Durham, North Carolina – home of Duke University -- starting Thursday, I do have a love for the documentary genre that makes me want to mention the amazing programming, which will include a thematic program called “Some Other Lives of Time,” curated by Oscar nominee RaMell Ross (Hale County This Morning, This Evening). Steven Bognar and Julia Reichert’s American Factory is the opening night film while the Aretha Franklin concert doc Amazing Grace (released this weekend in other cities) closes this year’s festival. There’s an amazing line-up of docs in between, some that have played other festivals like David Modigliani’s Running with Beto  and Toni Morrison: The Pieces I Am, and others that are premiering at Full Frame. American Factory  directors Steven Bognar and Julia Reichert are getting a tribute with all of their earlier features and shorts shown, as well as their new film about a General Motors plant in Dayton, Ohio that closed, forcing 2,500 people into unemployment. This is a festival I’ve wanted to attend for so long and I do have friends in the Durham area that would make this worth a visit, but it’s only four days from Thursday through Sunday, so can’t do it this year.

Also, the Havana Film Festival New York begins at the Museum of the Moving Image on Sunday.

STREAMING AND CABLE

This week’s big Netflix release is Brie Larson’s directorial debut UNICORN STORE, in which she plays a 20-something artist named Kit, who is kicked out of art school, forcing her to move back home with her parents. Just as Kit decides to finally grow up, a salesman, played by Larson’s Captain Marvel co-star Samuel L. Jackson, shows up to offer Kit her heart’s desire. Based on a script by Samantha McIntyre, the film also stars Joan Cusack as Kit’s mother.

Netflix also has a number of new series starting on Friday including Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (from Riverdale showrunner Roberto Aguirre-Sacasa) and the eight-part nature series Our Planet, narrated by Sir David Attenborough.

I didn’t go to Sundance so I haven’t had a chance to see Rashid Johnson’s Native Son, starring Margaret Qualley, Nick Robinson, Kiki Layne, Ashton Sanders, Sanaa Lathan and Elizabeth Marvel, but that will premiere on HBO this Saturday night.

REPERTORY

METROGRAPH (NYC):

On Friday, Metrograph will open a restoration of King Hu’s little-seen 1973 martial arts film The Fate of Lee Khan (Film Movement Classics) but the real winner this weekend is the Playtime: Family Matinees screenings of one of my childhood faves, Ken Hughes’ Chitty Chitty Bang Bang (1968), starring Dick Van Dyke. Late Nites at Metrograph will show Sion Sono’s 2016 film Anti-Porno, which I may have seen before or maybe I just saw the trailer at Metrograph when it screened there a couple years back. I can’t remember! Also, the Total Kaurismäki Show continues through the weekend with Leningrad Cowboys Go America  (1989) on Thursday, more esoteric films like Juha  (1999) and Take Care of Your Scarf, Tatiana  (1994) on Saturday, Leningrad Cowboys Meet Moses (1994) on Sunday and then his recent The Other Side of Hopeon Monday. That series continues through next Wednesday. Thursday also continues the Academy at Metrograph series with a screening of the 1959 rom-com Pillow Talk.

THE NEW BEVERLY (L.A.):

Weds and Thursday are double features of  Jack Nicholson’s 1971 film Drive, He Said  with the 1972 John Wayne movie The Cowboys. Friday and Saturday, the New Bev does a sci-double feature of Silent Running  (1972) and The Incredible 2-Headed Transplant (1971). This weekend’s KIDDEE MATINEE is Tom Hanks and Joe Dante’s The Burbs (1989), the Friday midnight screening is Tarantino’s The Hateful Eight (Multiplex version) while the Saturday night midnight offering is John Landis’ 1978 comedy classic Animal House. A 4-track mag print (whatever that is) of Carl Foreman’s war movie The Victors (1963) will screen on Sunday and Monday. Paul Thomas Anderson’s Magnolia (1999) will also screen on Monday afternoon.

FILM FORUM (NYC):

Besides debuting an uncut (220 mins. With intermission) version of Franesco Rosi’s 1979 epic Christ Stopped at Eboli (Rialto Pictures), the Film Forum is screening the 1968 war film Where Eagles Dare introduced by British author Geoff Dyer (who wrote a book about the movie) on Saturday, and then John Boorman’s 1967 film Point Blank on Sunday, also introduced by Dyer.

EGYPTIAN THEATRE (LA):

Noir City: Hollywood – The 21stAnnual Los Angeles Festival of Film Noir continues through the weekend with chronological double features of 1955 films The Big Combo and Bad Day at Black Rock on Weds, the 1956 films A Kiss Before Dying and The Harder They Fall on Thurs, and then 1957′s The Midnight Story and Monkey on my Back Friday, Clara Bow’s Call Her Savage from 1932 with a Forbidden Hollywood presentation on Saturday, along with Orson Welles’ Touch of Evil and Louis Malle’s Elevator to the Gallows, both from 1958. The series ends on Sunday with I Want to Live (1958) and Cry Tough (1959). 

AERO  (LA):

I wish I lived in L.A. right now because the Aero is launching a Mike Leigh retrospective called “Bleak, But Never Boring: Life According to Mike Leigh” starting Friday with a double feature of Naked  (1993)and Meantime (1984), Saturday is Secrets & Lies  (1996)and Vera Drake (2004), then Sunday is Life is Sweet  (1990)and High Hopes (1988).   On Thursday, the Aero is ALSO showing Animal House… but with guests!

BAM CINEMATEK (NYC):

Strange Desire: The Films of Claire Deniscontinues through the weekend with Bastards and The Breidjing Camp on Thursday, Towards Mathilde (2005) with the 2002 short Vers Nancy and US Go Home (1994) & the doc Claire Denis, The Vagabondon Saturday. Denis’ fairly recent film Let the Sunshine Inwill screen again on Sunday, as will Denis’ 1994 film I Can’t Sleep.

MOMA (NYC):

Modern Matinees: B is for Bacall continues with 1966’s Harper Weds, Woman’s World  (1954) Thursday and Robert Altman’s Pret-A-Porter (Ready to Wear) (1994) on Friday.

MUSEUM OF THE MOVING IMAGE (NYC):

Besides taking apart in a few film festivals mentioned above, MOMI will also screen Antonio Tibaldi’s On My Own (1991) with Tibaldi in person.

QUAD CINEMA  (NYC):

Bertrand Blier’s Get Out Your Handkerchiefscontinues…

LANDMARK THEATRES NUART  (LA):

Friday’s midnight screening is the anime classic Akira.

The IFC CENTER in New York seems to be in-between repertory programs, while FILM SOCIETY OF LINCOLN CENTER is still focused on New Directors/New Films through Sunday.

Next week, Lionsgate revives Mike Mignola’s Hellboy, this time played by David Harbour, Tina Gordon’s comedy Littlestarring Regina Hall and Issa Rae, and LAIKA Studios returns with their latest stop-motion animated film Missing Link.

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                                                                          MARCH 2017

 PAGE RIB

*****Beyonce and Amal are both pregnant with twins.

*****The Trump international hotel and tower opened in Vancouver B.C. with Tiffany and the sons amidst hundreds of protesters and a boycott from the mayor.

*****So, did anybody see Seth Mcfarlane in Real time with Bill Maher? He seemed to just sit and pout. He sat there sying nothing and suddenly blurted out “I’ve got water.” It seems that perhaps an earlier guest got his Jack D. and he got water. It just seemed to me that he wasn’t going to add much to the conversation if he did not have his drink. Such a diva!

*****Kevin Smith and comic book men are back and looking good!!

*****TLC is back with the fabulous ‘Who do you think you are?’ The season begins with Courtney Cox and her relatives who killed the King of England.

*****Leann Rimes seems to have added a few pounds and looking healthy and well too!!

*****Have John Stewart and Ricky Gervais lost it?

*****The number 1 item requested in homeless shelters is socks. Bombas (latin word for bees) socks is giving away 60 thousand pairs in one day.

*****American rehab: Detroit on DIY told a great story of a couple bringing an old house which had been part of the family back to life for a new era.

*****Nick Cannon is out at America’s got talent.

*****Louie Anderson is just knocking it out of the park on Baskets.

*****David Cassidy went public with dementia diagnosis.

*****Who knew that Hillary Farr, the’ love it or list it ‘chick was Betty Monroe on The Rocky Horror Picture Show.

*****Roger Waters is heading out on the Us and Them tour and will the poke the snake called Trump.

*****Dale Earnhardt Jr. was on Watch what happens live and seems to like Vanderpump rules. Too bad about the crash at Daytona Jr.  Hooray for Michael Waltrip and his 8th place. We do not want to see U go.

*****Stay away from the Remington 700. It shoots without pulling the trigger. Of course the company does not want to admit that.

*****Tried to watch the new sitcom Powerless. I want DC to succeed in their endeavor but hmmm..??

*****CBS Doubt looked like it had a great cast so gave it a try. The stories were of the same old kind but love the supporting cast and a nice twist. It had a little Spader/Shatner thing going on.

*****The Pats won that super bowl but it didn’t start out that way. Super bowl 51 was so up and so down. Their wide receiver, Malcolm Mitchell was asked by a woman at Barnes and Noble one day to join her book club. He joined, in part, because he couldn’t read very well. He is still with the club and it has inspired him to write a children’s book and begin a literary campaign.  For the halftime entertainment at 51, Lady Gaga gave us a statement of equality that said it all.

*****Days alert: Ok.. Is Days going to be cancelled for Megyn Kelly? Say it ain’t so.. Word is coming that there will be no Days in 2018!! Oh NBC, it is about the only thing you have left that I want to watch. Get the picket signs ready. We can’t lose Days. I am still hurting from losing One Life to Live.  Jen and Eric have seen each other again and he is saving a picture of her. Let’s fix his hair and get these two together. The last days of February and finally some progress on that front. We need that Tom and Alice couple that we can rely on and stick together no matter what. She already has the house and they have the good foundation and they have come back from the brink. **And.. is Drake feeling better yet? Bring back John Black!

*****Twitter donated a mil to the ACLU.

*****I want to be in the middle of those great scenes with Tim Omundson and Deidrich Bader on American Housewife.

*****The house votes to roll back the background checks for gun owners .This includes those mentally incapable of managing their own affairs.

*****Are we all really supposed to pray for Schwarzenegger? Weren’t the ratings of that awful show low anyway?

*****A friend told me that 80% of immigrants are on welfare. Depending on where you look, it is really 40-51%. Do your research people!

*****SNL is back with new shows starting with Octavia Spencer and Scarlett Johansson.

*****The continuing madness of King Trump includes him waiting a week into the Presidency before handing the reigns of biz to his son’s. It wasn’t until he was called out by reporters that he finally did it. His supporters do not even seem to care. The sons have secret service all over the world looking after them with our tax dollars as they go about the Trump business. *** Steve Bannon openly admitted that they put people in place to deconstruct the administration.

*****Some republicans are now asking for an independent prosecutor to investigate the Russian contact and interference. Jeff Sessions should recuse himself.

*****Our state reps are chickening out with tele town halls. They feel they don’t have to face the people who elected them and can therefor go full speed ahead with their own agendas. They use the excuse that too many people are turning up so they have to take questions by phone. Funny how the softball questions from people who mostly agree with them get through. Quit being cowards and do your jobs or get out of the way.

*****Tom Perez is now DNC chair, the moderates win. I don’t agree with scary clown 45 that it was rigged but a little shake up may have been in order. Personally I love Donna Brazile. Is it time for a new party ,the resistance party? Some will never trust the Dems. Some will never trust Republicans. A new hard left party may be in order. It will struggle but eventually take hold. We need to start with brains and artisans.

*****The President will not come to the White House correspondence dinner on April 29. He says he was elected to get work done and to focus on the country, like getting busy on that wall.  Pendejo! Oh please!

*****Pandering to Wall Street, the house is working on ridding us of Dodd Frank that was put in place to help the financial crisis. Do we really want to relax those rules? They are going for a 75% reduction in regulations for companies to add more pollution, to not look out for the customers best interest etc. Shouldn’t we be worrying more about production? Will they do the right thing as they see how the rest of us live or will they continue to ignore the problems?

*****Scary clown 45 claims he did not know what he was signing when he put Bannon on the National Security council. Huh?

*****Elizabeth Warren was stopped from reading pertinent information from Coretta Scott King on the senate floor.

*****Charlie Rose underwent heart surgery and will be back in March. He has been spotted and is doing fine.

*****Looks like a new show Trial and Error is coming. The ads look ok but they are advertising the hell out of it. Wasn’t there a movie with the same name?

*****Carol Merna, executive director for the center for prevention of abuse, wrote an open letter to Illinois governor Rauner. She asked him to put partisan politics aside and get a budget for the state. Some neglect cases have had to be dropped due to lack of funds.

*****CNN is doing the history of comedy.

*****Bill Nye saves the World is coming April 21 to Netflix.

*****Chris Kennedy, 8th child of Bobby and Ethel that was born July 4th 1963, is running for Governor of Illinois.

*****Blondie brings us the ne “FUN”. They are touring with Garbage this summer.

*****Zach Braff and Carol Burnett are both returning to tv.

*****Burger King is buying Popeye’s, lord help us.

*****Iran has cancelled visas for wrestlers that were to compete in a world competition. The Muslim ban has upset so many apple carts. Church missionaries and Doctors have to rethink leaving the country to help others because they may not get back in. We are not all as stupid as they think and should respect us enough to at least quit saying this is about our safety. Why are Christians prioritized? This new administration does not agree with Obama on much so why keep talking about the 7 countries he specified? He did no bans for these countries. Hundreds of companies have coordinated to file a lawsuit against this.

*****If we don’t live globally, things will be a lot more expensive.

*****Isis is on a drone buying frenzy. They are buying drones off the shelf and doing much damage. Our commander in chief needs to get in front of this.

*****New Power Rangers coming out this month.

*****Mar-a Lago, the former home of Emily Post and E.F. Hutton was donated to the government but Nixon did not really want it. After scary clown 45 bought the Palm Beach estate there was much ado about his flag pole. He also wanted the flight patterns changed so as not to disturb his guests. With the racist white house raging on, it is hard to believe that he was once more welcoming. The old guard of Palm Beach was not too crazy at who he was bringing to Mar-a-Lago. The resort would welcome anyone who could pay the fee. Initially it was 100 thou but as soon as he became President it was doubled, being President pays. Oh yea, and the flight pattern has now been changed. ** Scary clown 45 seems to think he is under some sort of cloak of invisibility when he is there. Hillary’s e mails were a problem but he can discuss anything classified on his own cell?? Are you fucking kidding me?**And speaking of Palm Beach, the President is spending a lot of time there. Before the election he claimed he would have no time for golf and relaxing. He has spent about as much of our money on secret service and his travels in a month as Obama spent in a year. This does not even include Melania and the NY digs and the sons who travel the world for the Trump business all the time. Of course, the business is benefitting from this.

*****Kevin Brady and Orrin Hatch can make The IRS show us the Presidents taxes.

*****Nordstrum’s dropped Ivanka’s line. Marshall’s, TJ Maxx, Sears and Kmart are in agreement.

*****If you give up freedom to get security, you get neither. –Ben Franklin

*****Why are the Sunday morning political shows just repeating the same mainstream stuff all the time? Let’s follow Bill Maher and John Oliver who at least talk more about our rights that keep getting stripped away. John Oliver is putting ads on the shows that scary clown 45 watches so he can at least get some real information. Marijuana laws, transgender rights, voting rights are all under attack. The pot industry is booming, why does this administration want to start taking away U.S. jobs? The department of agriculture has removed regs about the treatment of animals. The will no longer make lab inspection results and violations publicly available. Now, you must file a request to the freedom of information act if you want to know.** John Kasich is still making sense, why couldn’t the republicans have went with a sane person? He met with the President on health care. He feels the ACA needs reform but that you can’t just pull the rug out from 20 million people. Kasich tries to do things in a calm and reasonable manner much like the left. Is it worth trying? The administration says that the opposition is acting like 5th graders.  How many times do we reach out and try to do things reasonable only to be shut down?

*****Thank you J Lo for reminding us of Toni Morrison’s words about how important artists are in times like these.

*****Thank you A tribe called Quest for yelling “Resist” and telling us to break through the wall.

*****Seattle severed ties with Wells Fargo in protest of the DAPL. ** A federal judge denied the Sioux tribes request for a halt to the pipeline. And while the CPAC was in full bloom, the protesters were dragged away.  Some moved across the river and some moved on.

*****Good news for Kim Cade: Camping can help you to sleep better by shifting internal clocks to align with daylight hours.

*****Jimmy Carter put in enough solar panels to power half of Plains. Go Jimmy Go!!!!

*****North Korea launched a ballistic missile.

***** It was something to see when Paul Ryan was asked over and over again about Flynn and the Russian situation. He was annoyed right away. Really? How does it feel? And Hillary held up for 11 hours. Who can take it and wo can’t? Pussies!

*****FLEXIT: After many denials, Mike Flynn , the man who started the ‘lock her up’ chant, was finally ousted. When will they find proof that they all knew about this? They are not even good spin kings but how do they live with themselves? And Pence calls himself a good Christian? Did he know?** Did they make a good choice with H R Mcmaster? Of course, he is active duty so he could hardly say no. He is getting a lot of support because he wrote against Johnson and the handling of Vietnam and Bush with Iraq.

*****White house flunkie Steven Miller was getting invited everywhere after he told George Stephanopoulos he would go on any show, anywhere. Colbert and the View were waiting but he never showed. LIES,LIES,LIES: GET OUT!!!!

***** Streisand men ,past and present, seem to be showing up at CBS. James Brolin has been there for a couple of seasons and Elliot Gould is on the new Doubt.

*****Catch Trevor Noah on Afraid of the Dark.

*****Glad that Nightcap is back for season 2.

*****Scary Clown 45 gave his presidential address on the last day of February. He started the day by letting us all know that the protests and problems were Obamas fault. He started to adlib about 8 pages in. A lot of attention was paid to Karen Owens, the widow of navy seal Ryan who was killed in Yemen. The VP insists that the reports of nothing being gained from the raid are false. Trump pulled back on the immigration agenda that he earlier seemed to soften on. He did mention black history month which never happens. He is still talking about repeal and replace with the ACA. He did not shut it down first day like he said on the campaign trail. He said the same stuff in this address that he has been saying, just with a slightly different tone. He sure changed his tune about the Jewish hate crimes. Former Kentucky governor Steve Beshear gave the democratic response. What?? Why the fuck did they pick a FORMER Gov.? It was a pretty middle of the road response. He gave Trump polite hell for his lashing out at military, media and the intelligent agencies. He scolded that just because they disagree does not make them their enemies. Agreed but Yawn!! The best part of the night was afterward on MSNBC. Kathy Griffin, Michael Moore and Rob Reiner put a wonderful cap on the evening. Thank you for some sanity.

*****Better Call Saul is starting to run ads for their April 10th premiere. So fucking excited!!

*****Comedy Central is bringing ‘Colossal Clusterfest” to San Francisco on June 2nd. The fest will include stand up and sketch comedy, podcasts and music. The lineup includes Jerry Seinfeld, Kevin Hart, Sarah Silverman, Hannibal Buress, Bob Odenkirk, Fred Armisen, Tig Nataro, Ice Cube, Tegan and Sara, Reggie Watts and Princess and interactive offerings with South Park, Seinfeld and It’s always Sunny in Philadelphia.

*****Finn Whitrock, Sally Field and Joe Mantello appear in Broadway’s The Glass Menagerie.

*****The Grammy awards which I have never really understood came and went again. Some of the audience looked a bit perplexed when James Corden purposely flubbed the opening. They rarely honor anyone I really respect. But Adele’s George Michael tribute , once on track was amazing. Chance the Rapper won best new artist and claimed his victory in the name of the lord. Lady Gaga sounded great with Metallica. Again there were sound issues that you would think the Grammys of all places would have worked out but… Best dressed were Lady Gaga and Audra Day. The worst was Taraji P. Henson.

*****HBO is making a documentary about Andre the Giant.

*****The Independent spirit awards were on Feb. 25th and made some great choices. Molly Shannon won best supporting female for Other People. Moonlight won best picture, best director for Barry Jenkins and the Robert Altman award. Casey Affleck (best actor) and Jenkins took their best shots at Trump.

*****Bison have been reintroduced to Canada’s first national park after 140 years.

*****The Oscars were the next day, Feb. 26th and oh what a finale they had. Most everybody knows by now that the wrong film was announced, but that was not the entire show. It was only the second time an envelope mishap happened. Sammy Davis Jr. opened the wrong envelope last time. I always wished that they would show the honorary awards as well, they look like fun. Jimmy Kimmel seemed casual about his hosting gig and never stuck the knife in too deep. The Matt Damon stuff never really gets old. Tourists were brought in and Gary from Chicago is already getting offers from just being there. He had just gotten out of prison 3 days before after a 20 year sentence. Wal Mart is giving he and his fiancé wedding gifts. ** During rehearsal a big part of the set fell down.**The Salesman from Iran won and a statement was read about the Muslim ban. A lot of people were wearing ACLU ribbons to show solidarity. The best dressed were Emma Roberts, Haylee Steinfeld, Ava Duvernay, Laura Dern, Janelle Monae, Taraji P. Henson, Mahershala Ali, Naomie Harris, the dancer with Timberlake wearing the red and black dress, Luciana Barroso, Nicole Kidman, Ryan Gosling and Meryl Streep. Honorable mention goes to Halle Barry, Viola Davis, Michelle Williams, Karlie Klass and Emma Stone. Worst dressed were Leslie Mann, Dakota Johnson, Octavia spencer, Trudie Styler and Felicity Jones and some chick in the audience with a bold blue and white striped lace fiasco. There was a story about Karl Lagerfeld saying that Meryl Streep wanting to be paid to wear a dress but nobody believes it. In the fallout after the best picture controversy, Les Moonves said he’d fire his accountant if this happened. Matt Damon said he was not at all surprised and that is what you get when you let Jimmy host.

*****You can now get Dateline’s Keith Morrison on your GPS.

*****Michael Moore has put out a 10 point plan to get rid of Trump. Most of it is common sense but good o remember:

1.       Call your senators and reps: 202-225-3121 or 202-224-3121. A call a day keeps the Trump away

2.       Visit your members of congress and both senators once a month.

3.       Create your own personal rapid response team, form a group to be ready to leap into action.

4.       Join national groups like Planned Parenthood or the ACLU.

5.       Remember the women’s march. Join in.

6.       Join the democratic party.

7.       Form ‘regions of resistance’. Pass state laws.

8.       Run for office. Everyone can run for precinct delegate.

9.       Become the media. Report the truth.

10.   Join the army of comedy. Spread the words of great comedy about scary clown 45.

*****Elvis Costello and the Imposters are touring in June.

*****George W. Bush is making the rounds with his new book, Portraits of courage. He pays tribute to the wounded warriors and at the same time raises money for vets. He also probably feels that it is safe since he is small potatoes compared to the new Prez. We can’t forget the havoc that he and Cheney brought upon us today is today.

*****Lisa Marie Presley is in the middle of a nasty custody battel. Priscilla has her twin grandchildren living with her.

*****The Prez has already cut domestic spending so he can pour millions into the military budget. We spend as much on the military as the next 7 largest military spending countries combined.

*****Spain is going to appoint a sex czar.

*****Another Sandusky, the son Jeff was arrested for sex offenses against minors.

*****Scary Clown 45 made his

*****RIP William H. Busch, Richard Hatch, Al Jarreau, Erwin Corey, George the Animal Steele, Ward Chamberlin, Clyde Stubblefield, Bill Paxton, Judge Wopner and Neil Fingleton.

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